


Gripped You Tight And Raised You From Biggerson's

by sockiah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockiah/pseuds/sockiah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the Biggerson's where Dean works, strange things have been happening.  It's not long before he realizes they are the fault of his co-worker, Castiel.  When Cas confesses he has the ability to manipulate the quantum superposition that Biggerson's inhabits, the two of them are in store for the adventure of a lifetime.  Especially when Castiel makes the mistake of taking them too far, and they wind up in a parallel universe, where they must work together with other versions of themselves in order to get home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gripped You Tight And Raised You From Biggerson's

**Author's Note:**

> While this is a gen fic, and the characters act out a gen fic story... They are visiting multiple universes, and I cannot promise that _those_ characters are in a gen fic 'verse. Thus, there is some brief M/M nudity, which I couldn't figure out how to accurately tag for.
> 
> More importantly, however, this fic was part of a big bang and thus has beautiful artwork associated with it! Merkitten did an amazing job, so go check it out! [Art Post](http://merkitten.livejournal.com/3393.html)
> 
> It's not too spoilery, so feel free to give it a look before delving in. Or, I'll post the link again at the end of the fic, if that's more your jam.

The first time Castiel did it, Dean never noticed. Probably the first hundred times, and the world spun on by without Dean realizing anything was amiss. It wasn’t until an overly hot day in mid-October when his attention was called to… Well, to something. Dean wasn’t quite sure. It wasn’t anything in particular; he was just left feeling unsettled.

Dean knew, he _knew_ , he’d just refilled the ketchup bottles in preparation for the lunch rush. He then went about emptying the morning’s trash. He tossed the bags into the dumpster out back. Sun beat down on all the uneaten food, calling the last of the summer’s flies to buzz and drone in a melodramatic frenzy.

Dean blinked against the sunlight, feeling like he could only see up to three feet ahead without searing his retinas. He wiped his brow before reentering the relative arctic of the over air-conditioned restaurant. Oppressive wood paneling hit his pupils and made everything look black for a moment, compared to the bright outside.

He was still recovering his sight when immediately three customers complained of needing more ketchup at their tables. Dean balked, thinking he must’ve misheard, but then begrudgingly refilled the condiments. Maybe he’d dozed off during his fifteen and dreamed he’d completed the task. Great, even his subconscious was stuck at Biggerson’s.

Still, even with a logical explanation firmly in place, Dean couldn’t help that unsettled feeling that wouldn’t go away.

After that he kept noticing more and more weird little things that just didn’t seem right. One day the soap dispenser in the men’s room was broken, pink soap pooling all over the counter. By afternoon it had been magically fixed. Once the wobbly table in the corner stopped wobbling, but only for a few hours. By the dinner rush it was back to its old tricks. Weirdest was probably when Dean thought, didn’t the salad bar start on the other side? But it must’ve been his mistake—Dean clearly had just imagined it set up differently, now it was back to normal. Except, that one happened a few times, like some weird form of vertigo where he mixed up left and right, rather than up and down.

* * * *

Up at seven and out the door by seven thirty. It was the ketchup day, but Dean didn’t know it was to be the start of anything. He didn’t particularly enjoy the work at Biggerson’s, honestly, who really did? It just felt like it was all he was cut out for. It wasn’t like he was the stupidest or anything. He liked to read and retained information well, so he’d always done fair enough in school. He was kind of smart, but he wasn’t _smart_ smart. Not like his younger brother, who was a genius.

Dean had always enjoyed working with his hands more than just sitting around absorbing information. He always felt like he needed to be doing something, or he’d lose his attention. Back in school his favorite classes had always been shop classes. Unfortunately, those were also always the worst marks on his report cards. Dean never got the knack of following directions. He’d see how the engine or whatever needed to work early on in the lesson, then forget to pay attention. Then he’d fix it and it’d always work, but he didn’t do it the _right_ way, or whatever that meant. Even if he did often finish earlier and produce a better product than his classmates. His teachers thought he was a smart ass.

Sometimes Dean thought maybe he could apply to a trade school. Get licensed to do something he really enjoyed. Maybe he could invent something. But Dean was pretty sure his high school transcript would keep him out. Didn’t matter anyway, since working forty-plus hours a week was already barely keeping the family afloat.

“Here,” said Julian, the AM shift manager, pushing a grill scraper into Dean’s hand the moment he walked into the door. He hadn’t even punched in yet. “Some asshole didn’t degunk the grill or the fryers last night, so fuckin’ enjoy.”

Great. It was always a joy to be around Julian when he was in a mood, but who could blame him when it looked like whoever closed last night didn’t do anything they were supposed to. There were dishes and dirty washrags all over the kitchen and back room. Not that the back room was always kept exceptionally clean anyway, but someone was clearly slacking on the job. Julian scooped a pile of soiled towels off the dark wood of the bar counter and tossed them into a corner on the floor, before using a clean towel to wipe the wood to gleaming. Dean hoped whoever closed at least cashed everything out properly. He took a deep breath, put on his apron, and punched in.

Castiel was already there at the dishwasher, taking a large tray of plates and cups out and setting them on the counter. He gave Dean a rather conspiratorial grin, which Dean didn’t really know what to make of, but then he never was really sure what to make of Castiel. He winked in return. Castiel shook his head sheepishly and went back to the task of loading up the last of yesterday’s dirty plates. 

There was nothing that needed to be said between them. Work was mind numbing and soul sucking on the best of days, and this was just an extra helping of bullshit. Dean turned back to the task of scraping the grill, but Julian seemed to have done most of the work, lucky for him. He put his shoulders into scrubbing the last of the burnt grease, dark flecks of it collecting in gross little piles, waiting for Dean to kill them with a damp towel. 

Cas hung in the doorway for an extra minute before heading out to wait tables. He typically worked as a server, and Dean usually worked in the back, but both of them had been at Biggerson’s long enough that they were able to fill in wherever they were needed.

Orders were starting to pile up, and Dean was just finishing up cleaning the grill and starting to mix a large pot of pancake batter. And the morning went on like normal, right up until it wasn’t. Up until the part with all the unsettled feelings anyway, nothing was amiss. Julian had taken his bad attitude to somewhere else in the building apparently, so the customers weren’t being bothered by that, and once everything was tidied up, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Dean felt a lurch in his stomach, which made him blink rapidly for a moment to recover, and he shivered before taking out the trash. Unsettled.

It had been bad enough that Dean had customers upset with him over something stupid like ketchup. It was really annoying that he had to fuck up on a day when his boss was in a mood. He stared ahead into nothingness as Julian reamed him out. He was shorter than Dean, and perhaps that was what motivated him to be twice as assertive, Dean didn’t know. He willed himself not to roll his eyes, and just looked straight ahead at the center of Julian’s forehead. It went in and out of focus, his words fading into muffled nothing, despite his best efforts to get his point across about “condiment negligence.” For a moment Dean could see Julian, but he could also see not Julian. A space where he would be, but he wasn’t. He was truly staring off into empty space.

“Okay?” Julian’s nostrils flared.

“Yep,” said Dean, and damn, actual verbal interaction forced him to have to close his eyes to avoid rolling them at the guy. He wasn’t always the worst, but he was sure making up for it today.

“Good,” he said, seemingly looking for some other retort, but coming up short, so turning and walking away.

Cas edged up behind Dean silently. Dean had grown used to this to the point that he knew when Cas was there despite his complete lack of noise, but at first he’d been surprised and would practically jump out of his pants every time.

“I’m sorry about that, Dean,” said Castiel. “That was my fault.”

“That Julian’s a dick today? Nah man, he’s just pissed because the day didn’t start good and he gets stuck in a singular mood.”

“No I mean the ketchups. You did do them properly. It was my fault.”

“What?”

Cas shrugged and caught Dean with a second of direct eye contact before turning to grab the latest order and place it on a tray.

But seriously what? Was Castiel sneaking around guzzling ketchup? Didn’t make any fucking sense. Dean had spaced out and forgotten to do it. That was the only reasonable explanation.

* * * *

It’d been a couple weeks since the incident with the ketchup, and yeah, Dean continued to have that weird unsettled feeling, and now that he was aware of it, he noticed it every time. Occasionally his guts felt like they were dancing around behind his navel, and then he’d feel light headed. He wondered vaguely if he wasn’t developing an anxiety disorder. He’d read a bit about various mental health conditions in Sammy’s psych textbook once. But he always recovered quickly, and his life wasn’t being disrupted by any of it, so he figured probably not, even if all the weird discrepancies he noticed did sometimes make him feel like he was going crazy.

It was late, after eleven, and Dean had worked the closing shift. He’d counted out the day’s money and put the cash in the safe, then double checked that he’d done so. Castiel was just finishing mopping up and that was the last chore of the day, so Dean went back to his locker.

His fucking coat was gone. His coat, and the book he’d been reading, and the little memo notebook he kept to write his shopping lists, and his various ideas that he’d never do anything about. Someone fucking stole his shit.

At least he had his keys and his wallet in his jeans pockets, so it wasn’t an earth shattering loss, but still. Motherfucker. Dean punched the locker and slammed the door.

He stormed out the exit without bothering to say goodbye to Cas.

His car. Fuck. His fucking car was gone.

He scanned around the parking lot just in case he was going crazy, but no… His car was absolutely not there.

Dean felt like he might throw up. He bent over and started breathing hard, before standing up again.

“SON OF A BITCH!” he shouted to absolutely no one. The street lights in the parking lot shone down like they were mocking him somehow. Like the entire fucking universe was mocking him.

The door swung open and shut loudly behind him, and Cas’ silent form was soon at his side. He’d unbuttoned his red, Biggerson’s vest, and it was flapping in the breeze making small fabric sounds that Dean inexplicably concentrated on. His head was going to explode. Explode right out his eyes. Out his tear ducts.

Fuck.

Fuck fucking fuck.

Dean was breathing hard again, his head between his knees. 

Cas rubbed his back, in a kind gesture of comfort. Dean didn’t think he’d ever touched him before, so it was a little weird, but it was making him feel better.

“Dean, come inside. You need to get calm, and I’ll help you file a police report. It can’t have been gone long. Maybe it’ll still turn up.”

If Dean had been thinking more clearly he might’ve wondered how Castiel knew exactly what the problem was. Cas led him back in through the glass doors on the side of the building, guiding him along with one hand between his shoulder blades.

Dean needed to punch something. Do something. He didn’t know how to handle this kind of thing. His baby. His fucking car.

He could deal with things that were right in front of him. An excessive lunch rush and there were piles of dishes that needed to be done in short order? Dean could handle that. The problem was in front of him and he could tackle it. Someone was beating up Sammy at school? You can bet your ass Dean could find that bully and let him know the fucking score.

But this was something _not_ in front of him. That was the entire problem. That there was nothing there. His stomach lurched.

“Okay Dean,” Castiel sat him down on one of the tall chairs by the bar. “Did you go outside on your dinner break? Was the car there then?”

“I was—“ Dean trailed off and looked back out the door where his car was supposed to be at. “I don’t remem—“

His car. It was there. Right back where he’d parked it that afternoon. Black and gorgeous ’67 Impala in all her glory.

“What the fuck?” Dean stood up and headed for the door, peering ahead like he was in a spy movie.

“What’s that?” asked Castiel.

“No seriously, what the fuck, man?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean.” Cas leaned against the bar like he was trying to look like he was bored, but Dean could tell he was tense from the way the muscles in his jaw twitched, and how purposefully even his breathing was.

“That’s my fucking car; what the fuck?”

“Well that’s good fortune,” said Castiel. “And here you’d thought it was missing.”

“It _was_ missing, dipshit! And that’s not the first thing that’s mysteriously appeared or disappeared around here either. Don’t tell me you’re not noticing this shit man, because _I’m_ not going crazy, okay?”

Castiel sighed and very deliberately sat down on the barstool. He stroked his fingertips back and forth across the overly varnished wood of the bar. “Sit down, Dean.”

“No.”

“I need to apologize to you, and I think, for this confession I have, you should probably sit down.”

Dean looked at Castiel, who was still doing that thing with his fingertips and refusing to look back at Dean.

“Well, my car’s back, so I’m just gonna go—“

“Sit the fuck down, Winchester,” Castiel growled, and okay, Dean had never heard Cas talk like _that_ before. Granted he didn’t speak much at all, and when they did it was only coworker stuff. It struck Dean that while he’d known Cas for going on four years now, he didn’t know a thing about him.

Dean sat down.

“Have you ever noticed, that once you’ve been to one Biggerson’s, you’ve been to them all?” Castiel asked.

“What, you mean like they’ve all got the same shit on the menu, and all look the same inside?”

“Precisely,” said Cas. “But I noticed a while back that it was more than that.”

“Uh huh…” Dean leaned over and tried to get Castiel to look at him. He was avoiding him and it was making Dean uncomfortable. Cas sat up and fiddled with his vest, but continued talking, making sure Dean understood what he was saying.

“Not only have we been to them all, we _are_ in them all. All of them. Right now anyway, because we are sitting in one. Every Biggerson’s. There’s just a thin veneer between the folds and you don’t notice it, you can’t notice it, because they’re all the same. But if you look. Just really look in and in and in, then there it is, and you can see the wobble. Like when you take a photograph, but you move the camera. The shadow between two images, but it’s harder to notice it because there are so many images. All stacked on top.”

Dean just stared at him. A few seconds ago he was worried that he was the crazy one. Castiel’s voice was gravely and had a disjointed cadence to it, like his thoughts were just toppling out of him. He was making this weird gesture of stacking his hands on top of one anther again and again, as if that were going to help illustrate whatever the hell he was on about.

“I mean, can’t you feel it, Dean? The way the space is stacked. When you are outside, especially when you are past the parking lot, it feels one way. It feels like the world, and the wind, and you can breath in it. But then when you’re in here—“ Cas had stopped looking at Dean again and was now deeply focused on his hands, which he continued stacking on top of each other, again and again. “You go through the door and it’s just heavier. All those places, and it weighs you down. You think it’s just the smell of the pancakes served all day, and the way the sound echoes against the brick. The same brick, over and over in every place, but it’s not those things that make you feel that way. It’s not those things that create the stillness.”

“Uh, okay.”

“It’s like that in other places too!” Castiel’s eyes were wide, like he was a madman. Dean had never noticed how blue they were before. Kind of a weird thing to notice right now.

He seemed to know what Dean was thinking. “I’m not crazy, okay. But it’s clear at this point I need you to understand. You probably spend too much time in Biggerson’s so you don’t notice it anymore, Dean. But perhaps when you enter a Wal-Mart, do you feel it? Do you feel it in your chest and in your ears and in your neck how it is strange. How it is quiet and loud all at once. How the molecules don’t seem to move around. They are moving, of course. But they’re all stacked up, so you can’t perceive it the same way. Do you feel the difference though?”

“Y—Yes?” Dean didn’t want to admit it. He’d always owned that up to the fluorescent lighting. Too much of it and your brain can’t think straight.

“And if you look at it, between the moments when you blink, and in and in and there’s the blur. Well, I prodded the blur, Dean.”

“You what?”

“It’s here too, and once you start looking for it, it’s kind of addictive to stop. I mean, listening to the customers isn’t exactly riveting.” Cas rocked his head left to right as if trying to be nonchalant about his next statement. “It’s way more interesting to poke holes in the universe. They’re right there for the poking.”

“Okay Cas,” Dean started to protest, but then realized, “Nope, never mind. I’ve got nothing.”

“You can go through.”

“You can go through?”

“Through the holes, once you poke them. Just keep prodding and then, you’re somewhere else. Some other Biggerson’s. Not that it makes that much of a difference, but on days when Julian lacks a positive outlook, it can be nice to get away.”

“You leave?”

“Yes.”

“Then how come no one notices you’re gone? Who waits the tables here?”

“I don’t really know? I don’t completely understand that,” Castiel admitted. “But I think it has something to do with some kind of quantum extrapolation and the way everything gets stacked, and the universe _wants_ to organize it so that I’m here, so there’s sort of a residual. Like an imprint or a shadow. I’m not explaining it correctly.”

“So you run away and don’t work all day, and you let your shadow alter do all the heavy lifting. You don’t think it’s gonna want revenge?”

“It’s not an entity, Dean. It’s just a residual image. It goes about—I go about, because it’s really just me—it has to be still me, doing the same things every day. I am still technically in this Biggerson’s, because I’m in _all_ Biggerson’s. So the pieces of the universe that want to fit, fill it in. Basically. I’m fairly certain that’s how it works.”

“So if I were to talk to you while you’re gone, you’d respond in the same way as normal, so I’d never notice.”

“Theoretically. However I mentioned I had a confession.”

Dean offered Cas an expression of mild consternation, but Castiel ignored it and continued on. “I typically take you with me. If it’s really such a rotten day that I’d like to get away, I feel I rather owe it to you to bring you along. Not to mention it’s nice to not show up in a different Biggerson’s all alone. I don’t always know exactly where I end up, so it’s… comforting to have you along.”

Dean breathed deeply for a second and rubbed his hands over his face. The dilemma now, of course, was whether to believe Castiel, or to have him committed. The weird thing was how much Dean wanted to believe what Castiel was saying. Even if it was absurd, and he’d never in his life heard someone ramble in such a genuinely off kilter manner.

But it was so cool, if it could be true. If they could just hop away and not have a rotting pile of dishes. Not have to listen to Julian yell in his face. Dean recalled the last time that happened, on the ketchup day. He’d been staring into space, steadfastly ignoring his impulse to laugh, so he stared. In and in and in, like Cas had said. And it _did_ blur. And he had seen that space where Julian wasn’t.

Huh.

He _wanted_ it to be true.

“Okay Cas, take me somewhere then.”

“What, right now? Dean.”

“Yeah right now. Punch a hole in the universe and take me somewhere. Prove it.”

“I can’t prove it, Dean. Everywhere we go it’ll look the same. You barely noticed before. What makes you think it’ll be different?”

“I don’t know, Cas. Because I know about it now? Come on dude, you can’t just say shit like, ‘I can teleport us by punching holes in the universe,’ and then not show me. That’s just bad manners.”

“Okay, fine. See?”

“See what?”

“We’re in a different Biggerson’s. In Wisconsin, I think.”

“What really? No.”

Dean looked around, but there wasn’t a single thing out of place. The dim, after hours lighting was still on. The malt machine was still in the same corner, with the same stack of malt glasses next to it, tipping precariously. The carpet still smelled of grease and a recent vacuuming.

“Look out the window, Dean.”

Dean did, out to where his car was, or at least to where it should’ve been, because it was gone again.

“Son of a bitch. Do it again.”

“Dean.”

“Do it again. Can you do it while I’m moving around? What if someone didn’t push in their chair? Do you think I’d just run into it? What if I’m holding something when you do it; does that come with? How much shit do you think I’ve left at different Biggerson’s all across the country?”

Castiel was looking at Dean quizzically, his eyebrows furrowed to a degree Dean didn’t even know was possible in the range of human facial expressions.

“Fine,” Castiel snipped, and if Dean were smarter, of if he knew Castiel a little better he might’ve been worried. As it was, he started wandering around the restaurant, weaving through the tables, picking up mustard bottles and putting them back down, trying to test out his queries.

Cas rolled his eyes and then stared straight ahead, presumably looking for that spot of blurriness so he could bust them through to another layer, another Biggerson’s.

Dean was smiling, continuing to wander around the tables. He didn’t run into any chairs, but he felt that now familiar unsettled feeling, and that nervous jump of his intestines. This place didn’t feel right. He could feel the oppressive stillness that Castiel had mentioned, the stillness that he’d felt in Wal-Marts and other chain store places. The stillness that Dean still sort of swore must be from the lighting.

But Biggerson’s doesn’t have fluorescent lighting. Castiel was still staring ahead, looking into the spaces between the spaces. In and in and in. Dean looked around, trying to notice anything different. Anything out of place. The stylized bricks in the wall—they looked like they were blurring into each other. A gray mass of sort of brick shaped bricks. The walls were the same. The windows never budged, in just the same spot, all the tables exactly where they were meant to be. Same posters, same carpet, same napkin holders, same menu placards on the tables, same, same, same. The carpet was that same dingy carpet and the chairs were all alike. The booths all shone that same obnoxious red color that matched their shirts. Same.

Nothing ever changed and Dean wondered if they were ever going to get to a different Biggerson’s at all or if Cas was just full of shit. He peeked out to try to see if the Impala was in her spot, but it was late and the lights in the parking lot were out by now. For a second, Dean thought he could feel the floor move beneath his feet. There was a ringing in his ears.

“We just visited four hundred and forty nine Biggerson’s establishments in under fifty seconds,” Castiel said, with a spiteful glean in his eyes. “We’re home now.”

“I don’t feel so good,” said Dean.

“Perhaps it was too much.” Cas stood up, and walked to the break room, Dean trailing after him. Of course, Dean’s stuff was here now. It was the correct break room; it was home. That should pretty much prove it, that even if the four hundred and forty nine Biggerson’s in under a minute trick had been bullshit, for sure Dean had teleported somewhere today. Because his stuff sure as shit wasn’t here and hour and a half ago, but now it was. 

It was still a bit too much to swallow. 

Dean put on his old leather coat, the one Sammy made fun of him for wearing, and Cas put on a trenchcoat. It was supposed to start getting chilly any day now—it was nearly November. It was cool in the evenings anyway.

“Don’t tell anyone about it,” said Castiel, before walking off, leaving Dean blinking the break room. His voice left no room for argument. Dean wouldn’t tell anyone, even if what he meant to tell them was that Castiel was insane.

What the hell? What the actual hell?

Dean stared ahead at the break room wall, just as Castiel had instructed, and just as he had the day he’d seen this “blur” or whatever it was when he’d briefly made Julian disappear from his vision. He could feel the weight and the stillness of all those repeated spaces, and he looked in and in and in.

It was harder to notice when he wasn’t staring at someone, something that was distinctly different from one restaurant to the next, but eventually he saw it. Just a slight wobble in reality. He spent about another half hour trying to hone in on that spot, prodding it with his mind.

Dean found he could definitely see the way through, but he had no power to get there. Castiel had said he’d simply prodded the gap between reality and it was easy as that, but it didn’t work. Dean turned around and his car keys were still on the table. He couldn’t get anywhere.

He sighed. This was ridiculous anyway. By now it was two in the morning and he had to be back here in six hours. Fuck it, he thought, and headed for home.

Only his mind was still racing, even after he left. Headlights raced across the blacktop in front of him as he headed toward home. How he was ever going to sleep tonight, Dean had no idea. 

He couldn’t tell if his intestines were in knots because what had happened to him was actually real, or if it was because he’d suffered a psychotic break. His car thrummed around him, so he knew he wasn’t passed out. Everything right now seemed very much like reality and not some crazed fever dream. Rationally, he knew he had to just be crazy. He knew that teleportation wasn’t real, and if it were it wasn’t like a server at a Biggerson’s in Kansas was going to be the one to discover it. Furthermore, even if he did invent teleportation, he’d need to have, like… stuff, equipment and technology, to do it. You can’t just go, “hmm, I wish I were in Albuquerque,” and then just be there. Dean had just tried it himself.

Jeez, maybe he really was losing his mind.

If Cas _did_ have superpowers or something though, and that was a big if. If he did, he was really ignoring the possibilities. Why wasn’t he traveling more, or all the time? With a power like that, why not use it for more than running away from your abusive boss. Castiel could really be on to something.

He imagined if his life consisted of more than the space between home, Biggerson’s, and the nearest bar. If you could travel anywhere in an instant, why not?

* * * *

“So I was thinking,” Dean was telling Castiel, “that we could really use this whole thing to our advantage.”

Castiel swallowed his bite of turkey sandwich and swatted at a fly that was buzzing around the break room. “Don’t I already?”

“Think about how much cash people shell out on airfare though. We could just travel, y’know? Did you ever think of that? You could go wherever you wanted, and you wouldn’t have to deal with airlines. No money, no cramped seats in coach, no babies crying endlessly on a long flight. I mean Cas, have you thought of where you could go?”

“A bit. However, I really only perceive this ability when I’m at work, so I use it to continue working. Furthermore, I believe that my residual self needs my body self to stay within Biggerson’s. If I leave I think I leave… I wouldn’t be at work. I’d get fired.”

“So go after hours.”

“I’m also unsure that I would be able to get back. I’ve never left and then gone back. Something bad could happen if you leave the restaurant. I don’t know what, but it just doesn’t feel right.” Castiel picked nervously at the crust of his sandwich.

“I just think that if this whole deal is legit, we could really have some fun with it. Seems to me like you’re wasting it.”

Castiel didn’t react too harshly to the accusation. He just narrowed his eyes, then watched Dean seriously. Dean chewed while he talked. “Think about it, where would you go if you could go anywhere, no restrictions?”

“Charon.”

“Where?”

“Charon. It’s one of the moons of Pluto. There are five. I’m curious what the sun looks like from that distance. I think I would probably go there. It would also be very quiet, which would be interesting. I’d need some method of staying warm, however.”

“Uh huh. Why the moon then? Why not Pluto.”

Castiel shrugged. “Where would you go? I assume there aren’t any Biggerson’s on Charon.”

“Yeah, so that’s out. I don’t know,” Dean mused for a second. “The Grand Canyon, I guess. I’ve always wanted to go there.” He rolled his shoulders, like he was embarrassed by that. It wasn’t like it was embarrassing to want to go to the Grand Canyon; lots of people wanted to go there. It just wasn’t very original or interesting. Dean just wasn’t an original or interesting guy.

Castiel nodded.

“Do you think we can go there?”

Castiel fidgeted nervously. He clearly didn’t like the idea.

“What do you think’s gonna happen, Cas?”

“I don’t know,” he put down his sandwich and stood up to begin pacing around the room. “It was risky enough to try prodding at the fabric of the universe the first time; I just didn’t know what I was doing until I’d already done it. It was pure luck it didn’t kill me then. Just lucky I wasn’t zapped out of existence right then and there.”

Castiel was still pacing around the break room, although, Dean noted, he was fairly nimble at dodging around the chairs that were clustered around the small space. He thought about what Castiel was claiming, that he was experimenting with fire and gambling his own life, but then how was it that he learned he could bring Dean along? If he was so frightened of this apparent ability?

“So this is all super terrifying and you never would’ve started playing with it had you known what you were about to do.”

Cas stopped moving and stared Dean dead in the eyes. “Yes.”

“So how did you figure out you could bring me? I mean, if you didn’t want to experiment with anything new, you should never have tried to bring along a passenger at all, right?”

Castiel stopped moving and leaned against the corner by the lockers, crossing his arms across his chest. “That wasn’t exactly intentional either,” he admitted grumpily. “I was worried about you, and when I traveled I found that you’d come through with me. I hang onto you in my thoughts, and you come with.”

 

“Well, in theory. I’m still concerned about what happens to our residuals when we leave the building. Do they cease to exist, and we just become the only us again? I don’t know if I need the residuals to get us back.”

“So,” Dean took another bite of sandwich, then tucked it into his cheek to continue talking, “we go at the end of a shift, so when the residuals disappear, no one cares, right? Then when we’re done with our visit, we go back into the Biggerson’s we came from and go home. If we can’t get back that way, we hop on a bus or whatever. This could work man. We could see the world.”

“That would be preferable to experiencing nothing but the patrons of Biggerson’s for the rest of my life,” Castiel admitted.

“So let’s test it out! I get off an hour before you tonight, but I’ll stick around. When you’re off, let’s have ourselves an experiment.”

“An experiment.”

“Yeah. See if it all works. C’mon, Cas. Last night you went to over half the Biggerson’s in America just because you were pissy and went on a little shit trip. And now you’re worried this won’t be safe? Fuck off, let’s do this.”

“Okay,” Castiel sighed, but he was smiling that small little hint of a smile of his that was barely detectable. “I’ll think about it.”

Castiel was probably happy to not be the only guy who knew about this little trick of his anymore, Dean thought. And maybe Dean wasn’t good for much, but he could totally be good for being Castiel’s buddy. He was a weird dude and it didn’t seem like he’d had a lot of friends before. In fairness, neither had Dean, but that was neither here nor there. This was a whole new world of communicating with coworkers, and potential world travel.

* * * *

Despite Castiel’s reservations regarding experimentation with the fabric of the universe, by the end of the day Dean managed to wear him down. After work, they would go to the Grand Canyon.

Dean’s shift ended at six, but Cas wasn’t off until seven, so he hung around after work, ordering pie and some fries to go, and sitting out in the Impala in the parking lot. He knew he should try to get some rest, but he was too excited. That nervous, exhilarating kind of excitement so he couldn’t even concentrate on reading, and eventually he just turned up the radio and leaned his head back with his eyes closed.

Finally two fingers tap-tapped on his window. Castiel peered in at him, and it took Dean a minute to realize what was so different about him. He was dressed in street clothes. Black jeans and a plain grey t-shirt. He still had that trenchcoat of his, guarding against the slight chill that had finally set in. Dean had never seen Castiel outside of work at all, he realized. Now he’d convinced the guy to take him on a road trip across quantum fields using his crazy, inexplicable superpowers. Life was weird.

“Ready to go?” asked Castiel.

Dean nodded, his whole body suddenly thrumming with nerves. Which was silly, because he and Castiel had apparently traveled like this countless times. This was obviously different though. He felt like they were on the cusp of discovery and adventure. He knew shit all about quantum theory and the mechanics of the universe, but Dean felt like this was a scientific expedition anyway.

Also he was probably going to get to see the Grand Canyon, which was pretty fucking cool.

“To Biggerson’s,” said Dean, grinning madly.

“To Biggerson’s and beyond,” declared Castiel, with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, heading back in through the main entrance. Dean followed.

They didn’t have any distinct plan in mind for how this would all go down, so they just went back to the break room, as though they’d both forgotten and simultaneously remembered to check their schedules. To their fortune, the room was empty of people.

“All right,” said Castiel.

“Here goes no—“ Dean started, but before he could finish that now familiar unsettled feeling washed over him and he knew they were in a different Biggerson’s break room. The company posters describing policies and employee rights were all still in place along the wall. The lockers were still right where they were supposed to be. Even the fucking salt and pepper shakers on the table were exactly the same. Dean wondered if anyone else had ever accidentally found themselves in the wrong Biggerson’s and never noticed.

“We made it?” Dean asked.

“I believe so. I have been practicing this afternoon with traveling to more exact destinations. Of course, I have always been able to find our own, home Biggerson’s. It was a matter of expanding that skill.”

The nearest Biggerson’s to the Grand Canyon was about thirteen miles away, and of course Dean hadn’t been able to bring his car inside the restaurant to bring with, so the boys had a walk ahead of them.

Dusk was just beginning to fall here, and this Biggerson’s was bustling with dinner activity. “D’you wanna grab a bite before we head out?” Dean asked. He was stuffed with fries, but he didn’t know if Cas had eaten.

He shook his head. “I took my dinner break very late on purpose, so as not to require sustenance on our trek.”

Dean had expected this would be a lone Biggerson’s, set in the middle of the desert, tucked in along the side of an endlessly stretching strip of wide blacktop, the sky and dusty ground stretching out in all directions from the lone restaurant, endlessly. In actuality they were in a small town with a McDonald’s across the street. With a landscaped playground, several gas stations, apartments, and a trailer park. And at least a dozen motels.

“Well,” said Dean. “At least we’ll have somewhere to stay if something goes wrong.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and scowled, which did nothing but elicit a chuckle from Dean. He wasn’t worried. He’d been thinking about it, and as far as he could figure, they had these residual selves, which presumably helped guide Castiel the way to home. Right now residual Dean and Castiel were in their own Biggerson’s, because he and Cas were still in this Biggerson’s. They were technically in _all_ Biggerson’s, but because they’d started out at the one in Kansas, that’s where residuals were left behind.

Now that they were here, however, as soon as they left the property, they would cease to be in Biggerson’s. They would cease to be in _all_ Biggerson’s, Lawrence location included, and their residual selves would disappear. Which was great, since it was after hours and they weren’t supposed to be there anyway.

At some point tomorrow he and Cas would come back to this Biggerson’s to go home. Dean wasn’t sure if the residuals would reappear in the restaurant back home, but he didn’t see why they would. They didn’t start out there this time, so they didn’t necessarily need to be there. In any case, Cas would take them home and there they’d be. The question that remained then, is if they’d leave copies of themselves behind, back at this Biggerson’s? That would be interesting, but even if they did, all they’d need to do was leave the building and grounds again, and both them and their residuals would all go back to not being in Biggerson’s. Like a factory reset on their location in the universe.

So Dean wasn’t worried. In his head, all this made sense, or as much sense as fucking around with quantum superpositions could make, and all the logic fell comfortably into place.

Silently Dean and Cas began the walk out of town, feet scuffling on the pavement, and soon the small corner stores and Dairy Queens gave way to a few sporadic houses and some fencing. After nearly an hour of shoe scuffling silence, the sun was really going down and the desert chill began settling in. Dean was grateful he’d remembered about that and had brought along his coat. Occasionally bright headlights passed them by on the road, but for the most part it was just him and Cas, the road, and the scrubland beneath an impressive expanse of stars. It was beautiful.

Dean got the feeling that Castiel would’ve been comfortable with the silence for the entire night, but Dean was starting to get antsy. What had been a comfortable silence was quickly growing uncomfortable again. This guy had brought him halfway across the country and now they were just walking. And Dean had convinced him to do it. It was weird.

“So Cas,” he said finally, his voice ringing out against the dark, “what do you do when you’re not at work?”

Castiel remained quiet for a moment, as if calculating his response. “I read mostly. What is it you like to do?”

“Ah man, by the time I’m home I’m usually wiped. I take care of my little brother. Financially, I mean. Although I used to take care of him more literally when we were kids. He’s twenty; goes to school in Lawrence. So we grab a few drinks when he’s not busy with classes. But I like to work on the Impala—she takes a bit of work to keep her up and running. Keep up with my dad’s truck and my brother’s little shitter of a car too.”

“You live with your family?” asked Cas.

“Yeah. My mom died when Sam was a baby, so it’s just the three of us.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah. It was pretty bad. There was a big fire right in the nursery and Sammy was in there and everything. Dad got him out, but he couldn’t save mom. I don’t know exactly what happened. I was four and I had Sammy in my arms, but Dad won’t talk about it. We stopped asking questions years ago.”

Dean spoke nonchalantly, like it was nothing, but the desert swallowed up his words and spit them back out so that the true weight of them fell down upon their ears. The weight of what it meant for two boys to grow up not only without a mother, but without closure. The weight of how Dean had earlier mentioned taking care of a younger Sam, and now all the pieces of that puzzle fell into place. That Dean financially supported a family with a stupid job at a restaurant. 

Castiel didn’t say anything more to sympathize, but somehow Dean could feel the fact that he’d heard and understood. Something in the cadence of his footfalls, continuing to scrape against the asphalt, matching Dean’s pace. The desert was quiet again, absorbing up Dean’s childhood until it was hungry for more, and then it was Castiel’s turn to share.

“I didn’t grow up with a mother either,” he said. “My father was gone too. He was one of those guys who went out one night and never came back, but for my mother it was drugs. When I was six.”

Dean turned to look at Castiel as he spoke, the moonlight illuminating his face dramatically, but it bore no expression to match his story. 

“I was one of the youngest of seven children. Naomi and Michael were both over eighteen, so they were granted custody for the rest of us. I cannot say that situation worked out particularly well for anyone involved. Naomi in particular was very resentful, which was difficult at the time, although I don’t blame her for it now. She was rightly upset, I think. It made things hard for my younger sister Anna and I however. We were just too young to be able to get on without guidance. So when Anna was fourteen and I was fifteen, we ran away.”

Dean’s feet kept pace with Castiel’s, his past flowing into his ears the same way his story must’ve done for Cas. Older brothers taking care of a younger sibling, too young to have the responsibility, but taking it anyway. Dealing with it all in different ways—Dean staying with his father throughout all the pain and dishonesty, while Castiel took his sister and fled. Both equally valid options. Both difficult options to take.

“At first we couldn’t get an apartment because we were too young. We got jobs and occasionally stayed in shelters, but often we were in the streets. It was worth it. We could be who we wanted to be and everything we earned was ours. There was freedom in that.

“We spent a lot of time in libraries, so when we made our way to Kansas, that’s where Anna got a job. She’s officially a book shelver, but they found she has a real gift for reading aloud to the children, so she’s given extra hours every week for story time. By the time we moved here, I was eighteen, so we were also able to get an apartment. Between the two of us we scrape by pretty easily. This is the best time of my life, Dean,” Cas said, for the first time speaking directly to him, and not just out into the night. “I don’t feel your same need for wanderlust. We have a roof over our heads, we have the freedom to work where we want to work, and do the things we want to do. We have a place of calmness and it is good, Dean. I wouldn’t trade it.”

Dean pondered that contrast. He’d always lived in the same house, never having to worry about the fact that it wouldn’t be there. Even after the fire, the house was still there. He’d learned a lot about construction watching his dad rebuild it. In Dean’s life, all the things he had were a given. The house, his car, even his jacket, had all been there since as far back as he could remember. It was just the people he worried about. The people he could lose.

Dean had learned to hang on to the people and never let them go. Even when they were lying and drinking and being assholes, Dean hung on all the harder. You keep them safe. You keep them afloat. You help Sammy, because he wants to go to college and you’ll be damned if anything keeps him from his life.

Castiel didn’t trust the people. The people left without saying a word, and if you tried to hang on to whoever was left, they just took from you. They took your things and they took your soul and they picked at the remains until there was nothing left. So Castiel was the one who took it upon himself to run away. His family could’ve hung on to him and Anna all they wanted, but Castiel had to go.

Castiel left, but Dean stayed. But then, if Dean was so gung ho about staying and keeping his family close, what was he doing right now? Walking down a desert highway in the middle of the night, exchanging life stories with someone hundreds of miles from home? Wasn’t he running away right now?

“Maybe we all need to run away, a little bit,” said Dean. “It’s just that you already did.”

“Do you feel like you need to run, Dean?”

“I don’t want to leave my family,” Dean said firmly. “The thought of losing them makes my stomach turn. There isn’t anything more important in this world than them. But…” Dean wasn’t really sure if he really felt this way, or if he was just thinking that he felt this way. “But, I do feel trapped. Not by them, but by everything. I’m not sure. I just need to escape, I just don’t know what I’m escaping from.”

“I imagine Naomi felt much the same way,” said Castiel. “She became resentful and lashed out. She felt she deserved something, so she took and tried to make balance in her life by throwing ours off. You, on the other hand, were dealt more compassion and love in your soul. Rather than growing resentful, you grew responsibility. The situation is the same though. You both are trapped.”

“My family didn’t trap me,” Dean protested. “ _I_ trapped me. I trapped all of us. I’m just not smart enough. If I were better, if I’d gotten better grades in school and if I were better at work, I’d be able to get us all better lives. If I had more redeemable skills. I’m the one that trapped us, not the other way around. Now I just have to help Sammy, because he’s always had what it takes. He’s gonna be something.”

The words were swallowed up by the night, reverberating back on Dean. He felt the truth of them. They were the greatest truth of his life. God, if only he could do better. Try harder. Dean was always trying his very hardest, but it was never going to be enough. He just wanted more.

This escape, this version of running away from everyone, was perfect for Dean. It was perfect because it was so very temporary. No one even had to know he was gone. Just a taste of what it would’ve been like had Dean been born good. He could run and see the world and experience the things he only dreamed about, but he could still do whatever little he could to stay with the family. He couldn’t imagine what a wreck he’d be if he went on a trip somewhere and didn’t come back.

Dad and Sam would figure it out fine, he was pretty sure. It’d be a waste on Sam, to have to take care of Dad. Less time for him to study and hang out with his friends, and Dean would feel awful about that. They’d figure it out anyway. Dean would be at a loss.

“With our separate family situations, life necessitated different paths,” Castiel spoke. “However, my path took an action of change, whereas yours took an action of stagnance. Both were useful measures for the people most important to us. If Anna hadn’t convinced me we should leave, we would never have gotten to this place of peace in our lives. It took us many years of struggle to achieve. Now we feel we’ve earned it. Now, working at Biggerson’s and being responsible for my sister feels like freedom, to me. But you’ve always stayed with your brother. You didn’t have to run or leave to achieve the same freedoms. You are still in the same place with the same hardships as before. It feels the opposite, like being trapped.”

“I guess that’s a summation of our situations,” Dean agreed. They’d been walking and talking for hours now. His fingertips were growing numb against the cold, but the stars were shining brighter than he’d ever seen before. It’d been at least an hour since the last car had passed them, so at least an hour since their last glimpse of artificial light.

The universe was so big up there, sparkling above them. Dean wanted to see it all, or as much as he could. Castiel was right, he did want more freedom. Dean imagined putting himself in Castiel’s situation as they fell back into a place of comfortable silences. If John had been a little less drunk and a little more demanding. If Dean had been forced to take Sam away somewhere to keep them both safe. Would he be tired of running? Would he still feel trapped?

Dean wasn’t sure. He thought maybe that would just make him feel even more trapped, just then they’d be stuck somewhere else, and they’d have the added stress of not even knowing what had become of their dad. That would’ve just sucked more. It sucked for Castiel too, even if he didn’t care to admit it. He felt bad for the guy.

* * * *

It wasn’t quite sunrise when they finally could see the Grand Canyon. Dean knew they must be getting close, because there was a gap in the horizon where he couldn’t see as much scrub brush. Also there was signage along the road, pointing them in the right direction.

The canyon was huge, and filled Dean’s frame of vision long before they’d reached the edge. Soon they veered off the road and cut a more direct path through the desert. Dean hoped he wouldn’t step on a scorpion. He was wearing heavy-duty boots, but he still didn’t like the idea.

They’d been walking for hours and hours, but somehow the last bit always took the longest. Then finally they reached the edge. The pinks and yellows of the sunrise were just beginning to peek over the horizon.

“Wow,” Castiel said.

“Yeah. Wow.” Dean sat down, his feet dangling over the edge. It didn’t go straight down as he’d expected, at least not in this spot, so his feet weren’t really dangling so much as his calves were resting on rock that descended an angle, but it didn’t matter. He was here.

Castiel sat down next to him, and the canyon just stretched out before them. Across this vast expanse of space, and Dean could just see the Colorado River at the bottom, still stuck in the shadow of nighttime until the sun got a little higher in the sky. 

The pinks and reds in the sky got brighter as they sat and watched and Dean felt like he might be in a painting. He’d thought the night sky was so big and amazing, but this was right here on Earth. This was someplace they could go, someplace that the Earth had created and it was so, so, so much bigger than Dean had thought it would be. 

Castiel nudged Dean’s arm with his elbow, prompting Dean to glance his way. Castiel was looking right at Dean’s face and smiling. He’d never seen Castiel smile that way before, with the corners of his eyes all crinkled up and his mouth open and showing teeth so that he looked almost devious.

“You were right, Dean. This is really good,” he said, then turned to look back at the canyon. “You’re right about more things than you think you are.”

* * * *

Giddy. That’s how Dean felt and the feeling hadn’t stopped. He had just been existing in a state of perpetual giddiness. It hadn’t mattered that they hadn’t slept, that first day back after the Grand Canyon. The excitement of so much possibility would’ve been enough to keep Dean awake for a week, if he’d needed it to.

They’d stayed watching the sunrise for what seemed an endless amount of time, but it never could’ve been enough. When it finally came time for them to go, because they both had to be back at Biggerson’s by the afternoon, they’d had to tear themselves away. By then the sun was up and shining upon a cloudless blue sky. They walked back in silence, all their words having been exhausted by the night.

Dean could usually tell now, when he and Castiel had traveled to some other Biggerson’s for a few hours. Cas did it more often than Dean had expected he did, and he was beginning to wonder if maybe Castiel wasn’t more antsy than he said he was. If he wasn’t taking all these pointless day trips out of a lust for purpose and adventure. To relieve some of the sense of anxiety that went right along with the total nothingness that was working at Biggerson’s. Castiel was just fooling himself.

Dean made it four whole days before he brought it up again. The Grand Canyon trip had gone off without a hitch. He needed to go somewhere again. Anywhere. He confronted Castiel just as he was setting up to work the fryer. 

“Where to next, Cas?”

“Anywhere where people stop ordering so many of these onion things,” Castiel said, preparing to drop a whole onion into the fryer. “I mean, they aren’t terrible or anything, but really? I think I’ve fried almost twenty of them just today. My tear ducts are going to run dry.”

“Yeah, I think the high school kids just realized they exist,” said Dean. “But I don’t mean during work. I mean for fun. Can we travel to other countries? Where all do they have Biggerson’s? It’s not crazy widespread like McDonald’s is it? I don’t think so, but maybe there’s a few outside the US? Do you know? Do they have Biggerson’s in Mordor?”

“What?”

“The last one was a joke.”

“I figured. Just… Slow down.”

Dean couldn’t. He wanted to, but he was still giddy. He’d been holding it all in for the last four days, and the moment he let one ounce of that excitement out, the rest came pouring behind it.

“But where should we go? I know they don’t have Biggerson’s everywhere, but where’s the farthest we can go? What’s the furthest Biggerson’s you can see?”

Castiel dropped the onion he was preparing into the fryer, before staring off into space for a few moments. Dean knew he was looking into the blur, finding the furthest off Biggerson’s, in an attempt to answer Dean’s question.

“It’s far,” he said. “I’m not sure where it is, but there is one that seems farther away than all the rest.”

“Where do you think it is?”

“I’m unsure,” said Castiel. “Do you think they have Biggerson’s in Australia? It’s far.”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t? It’s a chain. Restaurant chains are disgusting, y’know; they get everywhere like that. And Cas, if we could go to Australia tomorrow, how cool would that be?” Dean found himself grinning like a maniac. He might be able to see some fucking kangaroos or something! 

He and Cas hatched a plan to take their next trip tomorrow afternoon. Dean decided to pack a bag with a bathing suit, just in case they did end up on a beach in Australia or something. Or maybe Dean’s stupid Mordor joke wasn’t far off the mark and they’d be in New Zealand.

They didn’t know where they were going, and that uncertainty was making it all even better than the last time. By the end of his shift the next day, it was taking all of Dean’s willpower to keep from leaping around like a lab retriever whose owners had just returned home. 

“I take it you are ready for our journey,” smiled Castiel, taking in Dean’s barely contained emotions and the duffle bag.

“You fucking bet!” Dean was practically manic, and he’d be embarrassed, but this was Cas. Castiel who now knew his whole sad story and he knew his. Castiel who’d shared in quiet contemplation all their similarities and differences, and who understood why they’d taken different paths, and how those paths had led to the same place. Who for different reasons from Dean’s own, needed this trip.

There was that familiar lurch, and this time it was even lurchier, if that could even be a thing. It made sense, as they were traveling further than they usually did. Presumably they had to tear through more of the universe to get there. Or something.

In any case, like always they landed in the exact same spot as they’d left from, only in a different Biggerson’s. It was like they’d never even left.

Dean opened his ears to the action in the dining room, trying to hear if any of the customers had accents. Trying for some sort of clue as to where they’d arrived.

“What are you two still standing about for,” asked Julian, stomping around the break room.

The fuck? How’d Julian get here? Cas didn’t accidentally bring him with, did he?

“Didn’t I tell you to gunk out the fryer Dean? And Castiel! C’mon, we’re short staffed! We need you out at the tables, what are you doing?”

“Uh—“ Dean stuttered. “Okay?”

He looked to Cas hopelessly, silently mouthing, “What the fuck?”

Castiel shrugged, but his eyes were huge and he looked fairly terrified.

Then he walked into the break room. _He_ as in himself. Dean walked into the break room.

Then he backed out slowly, doing a double take behind himself, as if momentarily trying to reassert reality.

Dean knew how he felt. There was a strange whirring sound behind his ears that he knew wasn’t reality, but just like, apparently the sound of his brain freaking out.

“C—Caaaaaaaassss?” he whined. He tried not to whine, but he was whining. “Why are there two Deans?”

Castiel was just standing there, that same terrified look on his face. His shoulders were twitching every time he blinked.

“Cas?” Dean tried again. “Cas are we seeing our residual selves? Like, did we leave but not leave? So they’re here, but so are we?”

“No, that’s not how that works, Dean. I told you; they are simply a by-product of the universe trying to keep itself in balance. If we were all in one place then there is an extreme unbalance.”

“Okay, then how does it work? Why are there two Deans?” He sassed back. He didn’t need a science lecture unless Cas could tell him what _was_ going on. Dean wasn’t all that interested in what wasn’t.

“We went too far,” said Castiel.

“We didn’t go anywhere at all.”

“Way too far.”

“Okay, maybe you wanna elaborate on that a little bit? Because I’m pretty sure we’re definitely still in Kansas anymore.”

“We are in Kansas,” said Castiel. “But I think this is a parallel universe.”

* * * *

So, Dean thought, you and your new friend, who you’ve recently dished all your life’s secrets and insecurities to, so you inexplicably care an overwhelming amount about him, have accidentally traveled to a parallel universe. Now what?

“So we’re where?” Dean asked again.

“I cannot possibly be certain, but it seems the most likely explanation, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” said Dean, although he wasn’t really sure he totally understood the concept. He tried to think back to a documentary he saw once, but he’d been really tired that evening and had had a couple of beers.

He and Castiel, well, mostly Castiel while Dean watched, had been punching holes in the fabric of the universe. At least that’s how Castiel described it. Apparently, if Dean was remembering it correctly, there were an infinite number of universes out there, for an infinite number of possibilities. It wasn’t like they were all lined up in a row either, like they were stuck in universe traffic. They were probably all stacked up on top of each other in the same sort of quantum superposition thing the Biggerson’s all were.

Fuck.

The farthest out Biggerson’s. Of course it wasn’t even in the same dimension as all the others. Of fucking course.

“Dean, I think we should leave.”

“Agreed,” said Dean, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know why, they would just go home, but he didn’t like this. He glanced at Castiel who was giving him a quizzical look.

“What?”

“I expected a bit more adventurousness.”

“Look,” he explained. “That’s all well and good, but this shit seems like a bad idea. Meeting yourself? That’s never a good plan in the movies, right?”

Castiel looked at Dean fondly before setting his sights once again on the furthest Biggerson’s location he could find. Or maybe he was honing in on something specific he thought would get them home, Dean wasn’t sure. Either way, neither of them wanted to be in the wrong universe longer than necessary. It was like that unsettled feeling he used to get from being in the wrong Biggerson’s, only times a million.

They wound up in the break room of a Biggerson’s that was already occupied by a Dean and Castiel. The other Dean dropped the half-eaten burger he had in his hand, its bun falling off and bouncing across the table. This universe’s Castiel hadn’t noticed them, and was continuing a rant that Dean was pretty sure was about the previous night’s Dance Moms episode.

“Wrong universe, wrong universe,” Dean didn’t know whether to scream or laugh. “Oh my god Castiel, you are such a Dance Moms fanboy. Wrooooong universe.”

Dean didn’t need to say it twice, as immediately the break room they were standing in was empty. Like totally empty. It was dark and the only things left were the refrigerator standing open and unplugged, and several crumpled papers in the corner.

“Uh, Cas? I don’t think this is it.”

“This one felt different than the others. I was hoping the absence I was feeling was the absence of us. Apparently not.”

And then the lights were back on and they were in a regular looking break room with all the regular looking stuff. No one was around.

“Could this be it? Are we back?” asked Dean.

“No idea. We’ll have to look around and find out,” said Cas.

Julian was there, but he didn’t seem too perturbed to see them both in the restaurant even after their shifts were long over. 

Miriam, the new hostess, then tried to seat them for dinner, which was weird, Dean thought, and maybe they weren’t in the right place after all. Or, maybe Miriam was just flustered by her third day on the job and didn’t quite know everyone’s faces yet.

“Sorry, Miriam,” said Dean, “We work here. We just stopped by to check our schedules. You know Cas though, right? He works out front. He’s a server.” Dean put on his most charming smile, hoping to put her at ease with the job before the dinner rush picked up.

In any case, Dean and Castiel didn’t want to leave the restaurant before they were absolutely sure they were in the right place. So far all signs were pointing toward yes, but that didn’t mean they were definitively correct. Only one tiny thing needed to be off for this to be a different universe. They might not notice it right away. Maybe this was the universe where the two of them only worked at Biggerson’s on the weekends. They were going to have to stick around and observe for a while.

After almost two hours there was still no sign of any other selves hanging around, which was good. However the other employees were giving them looks as they loitered around the bar. Well, it wasn’t like he or Cas usually stayed at work longer than they needed to. Unfortunately it would be too crowded in the kitchen if they hung about when they weren’t supposed to, and they wouldn’t learn anything if they just stuck out the break room. Which is how they wound up being those awkward dudes who were hanging about in the hallway near the bathrooms. 

At least halfway through dinner they got their answer. Castiel was outside, looking for any perceivable differences around the parking lot. Dean was still at his post near the men’s room, trying to be as unassuming as possible, when three guys came in to be seated—Dean, Castiel, and for some reason Sammy was with them. So apparently this was the parallel universe where Sam knew and socialized with Dean’s coworkers, okay. 

They sat down and immediately started up a conversation that seemed to be on hold from earlier. “I’m telling you,” said Sam, “all signs point to Lucifer being here. Tonight.”

“But Lawrence? Really? Just seems a bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Well yeah, Dean, but a demonic sign is a demonic sign. What do you want me to do if Lucifer has a penchant for drama and literary symmetry?”

“Perhaps we should just consider ourselves lucky that we were near enough to follow the lead,” the other Castiel suggested.

Dean, the Dean that didn’t belong in this universe, was interrupted from his eavesdropping when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Cas.

“Cas?” Dean whispered.

“Dean. I don’t believe this to be our home universe, but yet another parallel. However, I would like you to meet me outside in the back.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean said, and hung up, leaving him now with the task of sneaking past all their doubles from this universe. He supposed that actually made him the double and them the originals. 

The originals continued on their conversation, oblivious to Dean eavesdropping. 

“That still leaves us with the task of figuring out how to kill him before he kills us,” said the other Dean. “Not to mention how we can’t kill him right away if we still want to find Adam.”

“Are we forgetting that we still have a chance of questioning Michael about Adam? Wouldn’t we rather that interaction, than one with Lucifer?” Sam asked.

“Uh, how do you propose to track down a fucking archangel, Sam?” Dean scoffed. “Besides, Lucifer actually wants to find us, so it should be easier for us to find him.”

“I still don’t think that’s a good thing, Dean,” said Sam. “He wants to kill you. When someone’s plan revolves around killing you, and you don’t even know all the hows or whys yet, maybe it’s best to stay back and at least figure that shit out first.”

“However, we do know the where,” said Castiel. “I believe it is beneficial to us to track down Lucifer before he has the opportunity to track down us, yes?”

“See?” Dean pointed at Cas, “He gets my point.”

Sam rolled his eyes and gave up the conversation. Which was a weird conversation. Lucifer and archangels and they were all under some shared delusion that they were in great danger. Dean and Cas had clearly stepped into the crazy town universe here, and it was beyond time to move on to the next one. He shrugged off his thoughts and went to find Cas.

Who, as it turned out, was speaking with a tall, blond man. “A server at a restaurant chain? Really? You’re moving up in this world I see, Castiel.” The man’s voice was as smooth as it was snarky and he seemed unaccountably amused.

“Who’s this?” Dean asked.

“This,” Castiel frowned at Dean, “would be my cousin. His name is Alan, but we always just called him Satan. It was very fitting.”

“Alan?” the man laughed. “Huh, well that’s a creative touch. Wonder where that came from.”

Cas looked to Dean and whispered, “He’s from pretty far out of town; this is weird, right?”

Weird didn’t even begin to cover it, lest they forget they were traveling through parallel universes trying to avoid their other selves. Not to mention that their other selves were apparently out looking for “Lucifer” and this guy’s nickname was Satan, so there was probably a connection there. Given that Cas didn’t like him, and his name was Satan, Dean was willing to guess the connection was unpleasant.

“Dude, I don’t know this guy, but yeah. Anyway, I saw them, so we’re definitely in the wrong univ—“ he paused and looked at Alan before correcting himself, “…place.”

Castiel threw his hands up, surprising Dean. “This is hopeless. I can see all these places. Biggerson’s after Biggerson’s after Biggerson’s and they’re all the same. Sometimes there are differences I can hone in on, but I can’t see what they are until we arrive. This is impossible.”

“Shut the fuck up, Cas,” Dean was getting angry now. Angry at Castiel for brining him out here, even though he knew they’d never had come if it hadn’t been for Dean. Angry because Cas was having some meltdown in front of this Alan guy, and who knows what he’d go off and say to the next people. Angry because that didn’t even matter, because it wouldn’t be long before him and Cas would hop universes again. But they’d keep hopping again and again through this hopeless infinity and they’d never be home.

Inside the restaurant there was a Dean and a Sam, but he would never get to see _his_ Sammy again. His Sam would have to get by with just Dad, and he’d have to pay for college all on his own, and Dean would miss him. Even if he got stuck and wound up getting to know any of these other Sammy’s, they would never really be his brother. Not so long as he knew his real brother was out there somewhere.

Cas was still rambling on, going on a tangent now about quantum extrapolation of infinite possibilities and whatever other fake sciencey sounding bullshit he could pull out of his ass. His cousin watched him with a bemused sort of smile, and Dean thought he understood how super villains were formed as he started to feel a twitch born of irritation beneath his eye.

“CAS! There’s no way you’re ever getting us home if you keep complaining. Just…” Dean tried not to sound too much like he was pleading. “Just, let’s go. Get us the fuck out of here.”

“Wait,” said Alan. “So you guys, I’m gathering, are not the official Dean and Castiel. How did you get here? Just out of curiosity.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“Well, maybe I can help you get home. I don’t know about the ‘Alan’ of your world, but I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.”

Dean looked to Castiel to see if he had any input on the situation. He shook his head, giving a look of incredible distrust toward Alan. “Alan, I don’t know what you’re like in this universe. Maybe you’re a real upstanding guy. But the cousin I know isn’t the kind of person you put your trust in.”

“Aw, c’mon Castiel. Not even in a messed up, multidimensional displacement scenario? You can’t trust your old buddy Alan? You don’t remember when we were kids? You and I had so much in common.”

Cas made a face of pure contempt that made Dean laugh out loud, which in turn had Castiel seething.

“Hey, I don’t trust him either Cas,” Dean held out his hands in surrender. “Based on what I’ve heard since we got here.”

“You boys do want to get home though, don’t you?” asked Lucifer, or maybe it was Alan. “I mean, Castiel is right. If you keep randomly selecting universes, you’ll never find the right one. There are more universes than there are seconds in your lifetimes. There are more bursting into existence every second, as possibility rages forth. You’ll never, ever get home. So… would you like my help?”

He smiled and it was the friendliest, most charming smile Dean had ever seen. It gave him chills.

“Fine,” said Castiel. “What is it you think I should do to get home?”

“Oh,” Lucifer grinned… And that was how Dean was thinking of him now, not as Alan, but as Lucifer, because he was fairly certain that’s how he was referred to in this universe. Whether that meant he was _the_ Lucifer, Dean remained doubtful. Although to be fair, there had to be a universe somewhere where religions and myths were real, even if it wasn’t their own. “Please follow me. I can figure out some algorithms, and in the meantime you boys get some rest in my motel room. Please.”

Dean wanted to say, “No thank you,” but Castiel was already following and suddenly they were all back in a shoddy motel room for which the theme seemed to be “blue” because it was so aggressively monochromatic it made Dean’s brain hurt. Or maybe that was just due to his inability to remember how they’d gotten there. It all seemed very natural that they’d be here now, and his instincts told him that nothing weird was going on. It was irritating that he couldn’t remember anything since standing in the Biggerson’s parking lot though. 

Castiel seemed nonplussed about the situation, laying back on one of the beds and groaning with exhaustion. Lucifer had disappeared, and like with how Dean couldn’t remember them arriving here, he also couldn’t remember him using the door, or ever actually seeing them into the room. He didn’t feel unsettled by it, like he had back when they were traveling Biggerson’s, his head just felt… cloudy. He didn’t like it.

“Cas, I think we really need to get out of here. I don’t know what this universe is about, but it’s not like the others. We need to go. Like, _really_.”

“Dean,” started Cas, and his head was nodding off to the side like he couldn’t even hold it up anymore. “I know you want to get home, but I don’t think you realize how tiring it is to pull us through holes that shouldn’t even exist. Maybe we just use this opportunity to rest.”

“Can’t we do that like, anywhere else in all the multi-verse we now know to exist? It’s just… I overheard our other selves talking, Cas. I’m pretty sure this guy isn’t ‘Alan’ in this universe, and I also think he’s after them somehow. This just feels like a trap.”

“My cousin is the least trustful person in our universe, and probably in all universes, but do you really want to risk _not_ getting help when it might exist?”

“I think you’re too tired to be thinking correctly,” Dean said.

“You know what, Dean?” Cas sat up and his features turned to stone, staring Dean down. “I never would’ve even wound up in this situation if it weren’t for you. If it weren’t for _you_ , I’d be in my apartment, reading a book, while my sister listens to radio plays and makes us dinner. It’d be safe and quiet and I wouldn’t have to second-guess my every move. So screw you, Winchester. This isn’t my fault and if I decide we need to stop and regroup, that’s what we’re going to do.”

Every muscle in Dean’s body tensed and whatever anxiety he’d been feeling was melted down and reforged into anger. How fucking _dare_ Castiel blame him for this predicament. How dare he refuse to get them to safety? 

Dean huffed heavily out his nose, before crossing his arms and plopping down on the other bed. He picked up the TV remote and began forcefully pushing buttons to the point that it made his thumb hurt with the impact as he flipped through the channels.

“What a shitty motel,” he griped. “Fucking cable doesn’t even get National Geographic.”

Dean clicked off the TV and threw the remote back down on the bed with enough force that it bounced off the powder blue bedspread and went clattering to the dingy, navy carpeting.

“I’m going out for snacks,” he told Castiel.

“I don’t feel you should,” Castiel warned. “Just a gut feeling.”

“Yeah? Well my gut feeling says we need more Oreos,” Dean said, slamming the door behind him. 

What the hell did Cas want him to do anyway? Sit in the motel and wait for whatever shit was coming to hit him in the face? 

Okay, it was definitely smarter to stick nearby to Castiel, since when the shit did hit the fan, Castiel was the one who was going to be able to punch through the damn universe and get them both out of there. And yeah, since right now Cas was pissed as hell at Dean, he was running the risk of him just up and ditching him here. Dean could be stuck here forever. The thought was the exact opposite of anything that was pleasant.

But so was the idea of sitting in that motel room for even another second with Castiel grumping and refusing to do anything. At least if Dean went out for food he could pretend he was taking some kind of initiative. He was moving his legs and providing sustenance for both of them, which, if Castiel was as tired as he claimed, he had to be hungry too.

The grocery store was just exactly as it was in his home universe. Brightly lit with fluorescent lighting, but the tiled floor was dingy from decades of feet trod on it, and would never again sparkle the way they were supposed to pretend it did.

Dean grabbed one of the green plastic baskets and made his way to the cookie aisle first. He should pick them up some sandwiches from the deli as well, but priorities and snack foods were basically the same word. He loaded up the basket with Oreos and Little Debbie snack cakes.

Several minutes later and Dean was squinting against the glare on the glass of the deli counter when things got weird. “Jesus, Dean. I’m not gonna forget your pie; you don’t have to follow me to the store,” Sam’s voice rang out behind him.

Of course, it wasn’t Sam. It was that other Sam, the one who was supposed to be here. Unlike him, who was so out of place it didn’t even compute. Especially since everything felt right. Even the stupid glare he was trying to read through was in the same exact spot on the glass. This was his store, his town, his everything, except for how it wasn’t. This wasn’t his brother. This Sam had far more lines on his face, indicative of a harder life. There wasn’t a glimmer of a smile hiding behind his eyes. This Sam was tired.

“Oh, uh…” Dean didn’t know what the other Dean was supposed to be doing, so it was pretty difficult to come up with a cover story. “Well, it never hurts to double check, right?”

Sam looked at him suspiciously. “Something off between you and Cas?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sort of expected you’d be doing… Whatever it is you two get up to when I’m not around. And I got your damn pie,” he thrust his basket toward Dean to prove it, an apple pie sitting squarely on top.

Dean shrugged. “Cas is fine? I just needed some air is all. I mean, this whole Lucifer thing…”

Sam looked at him like he’d lost his mind. 

“Yeah. All the more reason for you to lie low, Dean. I thought we were past this reckless bullshit.”

“Whatever, let’s just pay for our stuff and get out of here, Sam.”

Dean was done with this conversation. Everything he tried to say was clearly a major misstep and it needed to be over. He ‘d just get his food and get back to Lucifer’s motel room.

Which when he said that in his head, just seemed like the most ridiculous sentence ever, and the worst idea anyone had ever had.

“I can’t believe Castiel let you go off on your own,” Sam was talking just as much to himself as he was to Dean. Dean pretended to ignore him and browse the covers of the gossip magazines as they waited to check out. “Of all the irresponsible things.”

“Cas doesn’t control me,” Dean insisted, and he didn’t know why he said it, but it was too late.

Sam barked a laugh so loud Dean almost dropped his shopping basket.

“What?”

Sam gave him a look. “Yeah, you can tell yourself that Dean,” he said, then gave that little brother, shit-eating smirk that deserved about a million punches in the arm, but Dean would give him just one. Dean didn’t know what he was on about, but that kid could be such a little shit.

“But Dean, I took the car, so you walked here. We _know_ Lucifer is in town you idiot. What if he’d up and grabbed you? We’d have no way of knowing where he’d taken you, or anyway to help. This was the stupidest move you’ve made in awhile, Dean.”

Dean gulped. He took this to mean that Sam wasn’t about to let him walk back to the motel on his own. From the over protective look in his eyes, there wasn’t a chance.

“I’m not a fuckin’ baby, Sam. And I can’t keep cooped up with you assholes 24/7. Get off my back,” Dean grimaced. It was worth a shot anyway, but now Sam was just rolling his eyes at him.

As luck would have it, Lucifer was waiting for them outside the store. His face illuminated all creepy by the light of the pop machines.

“Dean, ah… How’s your exploring going? I trust things aren’t too far from what you’re used to? Or perhaps it’s all very different. Wouldn’t that be interesting,” he paused to waggle his fingers at Sam in a cutesy wave. “Long time, no see, Sam. I do hope things are going well for you, since our last meeting.”

Sam was stock silent next to Dean, and even though this Sam wasn’t his brother, not really, he could tell he wasn’t okay. The tension flooded off of his body and was filling the air around them in dizzying waves. Dean wasn’t particularly empathetic, but he was an outgoing guy, so he could pick up a mood in a room. This mood? It was not good.

“Sammy?” he asked.

To his credit, Sam hadn’t dropped his grocery bags, however the plastic was rustling in his hands, giving away the fact the giant moose of a man was shaking like a leaf. His puppy dog eyes were in full force, but he was staring ahead at nothing. Or more likely, he was staring ahead at whatever memories were playing behind his eyes that were causing such a reaction to this man.

“Uh? Alan?” Dean started, “I was just catching up with Sammy here, you know… Part of exploring new worlds, right? Getting to see how different all your relatives turned out!” He faked a laugh, but it sounded more like choking. “Anyway, should I meet you and Cas back at the motel in twenty?”

“No, Dean. That is unacceptable. You were meant to stay with Castiel where I put you. Now I don’t know if I’ll be able to help you back to your home.”

“What? That’s crazy. Neither of us have eaten, and Cas is exhausted. I just went out for some food. Chill out man.”

Sam looked at Dean like he’d lost his mind, and maybe he had. But fuck it. He didn’t know jack about this universe, but more likely than not, Alan was just some asshole way too high on his own inflated sense of power. Which he probably got from messing with little kids like when he used to help take care of his younger cousins, just like in the home universe. Besides, Dean wasn’t from here, and he and Cas were leaving as soon as they could, and they’d never have to deal with any of the shit from this shitty universe ever again. So who cared.

Except Sam cared. Even though it wasn’t _his_ Sammy, Dean didn’t really want him to end up hurt.

“Dean,” Sam’s eyes were huge and kept glancing between Alan/Lucifer and Dean. “What happened to Cas? Is… Is he okay? What’s going on? Why didn’t you say…”

“Um?”

“Very eloquent, Dean,” Alan rolled his eyes, and at once Dean was back in the motel room with Cas, and he had no idea how he’d gotten there. Also his snacks and sandwiches had been left behind.

“Fuck you, Alan,” he said aloud, even though he was nowhere in sight. “Motherfucker left my food behind, then did some weird teleport thing and now I’m here again. Cas. We _have_ to get the hell out of here. I don’t know what that guy is planning, but he’s got some crazy bullshit powers same as you and I don’t want to see what he does with them, okay?”

Cas had stood up and finally seemed to be taking Dean more seriously.

“I mean, the other Dean from this universe? He’s all convinced that this guy is actually Lucifer… I mean, that’s an assumption, I don’t know for sure that Alan is _the_ Lucifer they’re all freaked out about; they seem nuts, compared to our universe, but I don’t know man.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak this way,” said Castiel, then put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I am sorry we’ve gotten into this mess.”

“And Sammy. You should’ve seen how terrified he was of the guy. It’s not good. We have to leave. Right away,” he paused. “And you’ve never heard me talk what way?”

“You’re scared.” Castiel’s hand rested on Dean’s shoulder, comforting him. “We’ll have to get back to Biggerson’s without Alan intercepting us. Do you think we can do that?”

“I made it to the grocery store. But he did find me there and send me right back here. Do you think it’d be better to head there directly, or try to be sneaky and go some twisty turning route?”

Castiel’s hand fell back to his side. “I’m not sure. Let’s just go before Alan can follow us any further.”

* * * *

Against all odds, they made it back to Biggerson’s. The parking lot was eerie with the feeling of being watched, and of course the building was all locked up for the night. It was nearly two in the morning. The streetlights set glowing circles upon the pavement.

“I wonder if my keys from our Biggerson’s fit this lock,” said Dean. Rattling around for them in his pockets echoed in the dark, seeming louder than it really ought to.

“Worth a try,” said Cas.

To his surprise, they did fit, although in hindsight he didn’t know why he was so surprised. Everything here was absolutely the same, pretty much down to the molecule, except for the fact that he and his brother and Cas were out of their minds bonkersville and none of them worked at Biggerson’s. He wondered if any of them even had jobs, or maybe they were all just too nuts for that kind of thing.

The restaurant was quiet and disturbingly familiar in a place so incredibly far from home. It was strange to think that for all the places Castiel had taken them today, they’d never even left Kansas. Castiel ran his fingers over the soft vinyl of one of the booths, as though lost in the same thoughts that were plaguing Dean.

“Cas, you sure it’s a good idea to leave your fingerprints like that? We are breaking and entering.”

“We work here.”

“Not in this ‘verse we don’t. Dude, I told you, these guys are whacked.”

“Who _are_ you guys?” It was Sam’s voice, and his large, bulking frame was filling the entryway behind the host desk.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cursed before his brain caught up enough to realize a cover story was in order.

“Because I know you’re not Dean and Cas. When I went back to the motel they obviously hadn’t left. So,” he held up an elaborate looking knife and a clear bottle of water, “we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. Tell me what you are.”

Castiel glanced at Dean. “That’s your brother?”

“Like I said, they’re all bonkersville.”

Sam stepped closer, still brandishing that knife, and now he was only a couple feet from Dean. Now, Dean wasn’t a total baby, but the wasn’t an idiot either, and Sam’s knife was an evil looking thing that could do just as much damage going in as when he pulled it out. Dean held up his hands defensively.

“Cas, get us the hell out of here!”

“I’m not sure if that’s wise in the moment. Alan appears to have discovered us again.”

Dean peeked out from behind his hands to see Alan’s, or maybe Lucifer’s, creepy face on the other side of the window behind Cas.

“All the more reason!” Dean was practically hyperventilating.

“What if he follows us though?”

“Did you just call him ‘Alan’?” Sam wondered, lowering his knife, so at least Dean could breathe that much easier.

“Who cares?” Dean suggested. “I just don’t want to be here anymore! Beam me up, Castiel!”

Cas rolled his eyes, but a moment later they were lurched away. Not moving an inch, but somehow still landing in another Biggerson’s, it was quiet and dark as the last one, it being after hours in this universe as well. Dean hoped with every fiber of his being that thye’d gotten home. That this adventure was over, and he’d never have to think about parallel universes, or Cas’ creepy cousin ever again.

“Now what?” Cas asked indignantly. “How do you suppose we verify if we’re home or not when no one’s around?”

Dean shrugged. They could walk home, he supposed, and scope out the situation there. He was feeling pretty wiped out though, and Cas had already mentioned his exhaustion. 

“I guess we find a place to crash, then resume our travels tomorrow.”

“Great,” said Castiel, and Dean never knew he was capable of so much sarcasm.

* * * *

Dean slept fitfully in the creaky motel bed, the springs of the mattress digging into his back. It was the same aggressively blue room that Alan had put them up in in the last universe, which only served to further Dean’s uneasiness.

Castiel was out cold and snoring in the next bed. He hadn’t been kidding about being worn out, which was interesting, because he’d never been this tired when traveling between Biggerson’s locations in the same plane of reality, but after only four hops outside the universe he was dead asleep with drool running down his cheek.

Dean rolled over again, trying to prop his pillows into a more comfortable position, but it was to no avail and he spent most of the night just listening to Castiel sleeping. At least he was able to get some rest, as Dean suspected they would be visiting several parallel universes tomorrow.

That really did sound super cool, when Dean dwelled on it. Yesterday he’d gotten so caught up in the panic of never getting home again, or of destroying all of reality by meeting his other self, or whatever would happen if they met, that he hadn’t gotten a chance to appreciate the magnitude of this adventure. Nobody got to leave the universe… It was the fucking universe! Only Dean and Castiel had, and that was awesome. He just needed to hum some Zeppelin to himself and enjoy the ride.

First thing in the morning and they were back off to the Biggerson’s to mount an investigation. Dean thought he saw a flash of blond and a smarmy expression out of the corner of his eye, but he looked again and it was gone. He brushed it off as himself being paranoid and didn’t tell Cas.

They didn’t have to go far to realize they needed to make another trip, as just as they arrived, so did the other Dean. He pulled into the parking lot in a bright red Mustang.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Cas, my car! What did he do with my car?”

Castiel yawned and didn’t bother to reply, rather ignoring Dean and heading for the doors. As soon as they were inside, they were somewhere else.

* * * *

Dean’s eyes barely had time to scan away from his feet on the carpet, before he was lurched off again. Biggerson’s again. This one sported a very disheveled and hungover looking Castiel, weaving around the dining room. They’d taken maybe two steps toward the “Please Wait to be Seated” sign before Castiel whisked them off again.

There they immediately saw a Dean working as a server. Smash cut to some other Biggerson’s with no Dean or Cas in sight, but all the booths and chairs were green. Bam, and on to the next Biggerson’s, where Dean was working the host podium.

“Uh…” he rubbed his eyes, but by the time he looked back up they were gone. Another green Biggerson’s.

A Biggerson’s with some sort of weird singing fish motif, rather than the usual décor.

A Biggerson’s where Dean didn’t work, but Castiel did.

Then one with no Cas, but there was indeed a Dean.

A Biggerson’s that seemed like it could be home. They sat down for lunch, eyes scanning for either their other selves, or anything that seemed out of place. 

Gretchen brought them their menus. “You guys really taking your lunch break out here?” she shook her head at them. This was maybe out of place, but then they weren’t on the schedule for today, and Gretchen might not know that. At least, that’s what the overly hopeful section of Dean’s brain screamed. 

The overly hopeful section of his brain, along with all the other sections, had been thoroughly scrambled by all the universe hopping, which only served to make that hopeful bit rage all the more loudly.

Castiel ordered something from the Smart Heart menu that was covered in bacon. Dean just ordered a burger. Gretchen winked at them, before flouncing off to put in their orders.

“Does she usually wink at you?” Dean asked. He didn’t interact with her often, since she always worked out front, but Cas knew her.

“Not usually.” Cas sipped from his water, tucking in his upper lip against the ice. He didn’t look too tired yet. Hopefully if this turned out to be the wrong place, he could keep going until closing time. Then they’d end up staying in that stupid blue motel room again, because it was the nearest place to the restaurant and they didn’t have a car, but it would be fine, because they could rest up and keep going.

Dean never thought he’d feel more tied to a stupid chain restaurant than when he worked there. It was all he was good for and all he was cut out to be, and he was, as Castiel pointed out, trapped. Now he was so free he was actually leaving the fucking universe behind, so far behind that he’d probably never get back to that Biggerson’s he was trapped in, and yet here he was, still stuck in the same goddamn restaurant. He was barely getting more than three blocks away from it. He was more trapped than ever.

Castiel was studying his napkin; perhaps to ascertain if it was made from the same paper grade as the napkins back home, or at least he might as well be from the intensity with which he approached this task. Dean sighed. “I’m gonna take a whiz,” he announced, before letting his chair scrape back. He didn’t bother to push it back in before heading to the restrooms.

The door was stuck, so Dean had to throw his shoulder into it before it would open. Under the overly bright lights of the bathroom, Dean had Castiel up on the counter, Castiel’s legs up over his shoulders. Dean’s pants were around his ankles, exposing his smooth ass cheeks as he thrusted into Castiel.

Cas’ eyes were closed, his hair mussed as wild as he leaned against the bathroom mirror. He had himself propped up with one hand, the other was on his dick. He moaned audibly, until Dean leaned forward and captured his mouth with his own, the new angle causing them both too shudder.

Dean, the other Dean that didn’t belong in this universe—the gay porn universe—stopped and stared in shock for a moment. Fortunately the other two were too blissed out to notice him wide eyed and mouth gaping in the doorway. Dean back peddled out of the bathroom quickly. He might have walked backwards all the way back to the table, he wasn’t sure. All he could see was his own ass thrusting into Castiel’s, and that look on Castiel’s face, burned into his retinas.

Castiel nodded to acknowledge Dean’s existence as he sat back down at the table. Dean didn’t move or react. He was suddenly overly conscious of the fact that he had arms, and not sure where he usually put them. Did his feet always face in this direction when he sat down? What sort of posture did he have when he was acting natural? When he was acting like he hadn’t just seen his friend’s penis. What was the body language for ‘I’ve never seen your penis’?

Dean clearly got it wrong, because Castiel asked him, “Is everything all right?”

Dean could feel the blood leaving his face, and he tried to look anywhere but at Castiel.

“Dean?”

“I saw your penis,” Dean blurted.

“What?”

Good question. What had possessed Dean to say that? Well, other than the fact that he’d just seen Castiel’s penis. He tried to recall what non-penis-related words were like, before finally choking out, “Uh, we’re not in the right universe.”

“The odds were stacked that way,” Castiel nodded. “So I take it you saw an inconsistency?”

The scene from the bathroom flashed before Dean’s eyes again, and he had to literally shake his head to clear it. He wanted to say, “If by inconsistency you mean, ‘your penis’ then yes, I saw your penis,” but by some miracle he refrained, and just nodded instead.

“Would your assessment be that we should leave now, or do you think we can stay for lunch?”

Again, he wanted to ask Castiel, “That depends, how long is your refractory period?” But something stopped him, and he just shrugged. Only now he was worried he was being suspiciously silent.

“We are, uh… We’re in the bathroom,” he coughed. “But our break is probably over soon? So we should go.”

“You said you saw my penis.”

“We are fucking in the bathroom right now and we should go before we’re done, okay?” Dean snapped out in one breath.

Castiel blinked.

And then they were in a different Biggerson’s. How many universes had them being gay together, Dean wondered. Was there a Dean and a Cas fucking in this bathroom too? He didn’t have any problems with gay people, hell, he’d had his fair share of thoughts about men, even if he’d never acted on them. It was just, seeing himself and _Cas_ like that… It made him uncomfortable.

He’d just started getting to know Castiel, and while sure, he was attractive, he’d never thought about him _like that._ Even worse was the fact that his Cas never gave Dean permission to see him _like that_ , but now he had. It wasn’t on purpose, but it still wasn’t cool.

They visited several more parallel universes throughout the afternoon, each of them going by in a blur to Dean. One after another, just the bricks and polished wood of so many Biggerson’s, each one just as the same as the last, each one just as much not home.

It was only five o’clock, but Castiel was ready to call it quits.

“We should visit the grocery you went to last night, and bring some food back to the motel. Rest up for tomorrow.”

There were bags under Castiel’s eyes, and Dean knew he wasn’t being fair, but no way. Biggerson’s didn’t close for another six hours, and that was six hours of time wasted if they weren’t there looking for home. Castiel had already walked ahead and was at the edge of the parking lot, heading toward the store.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dean confronted him.

“I believe I just explained—“

“Are you really going to waste our time like this? I have a brother, you ass! You’re keeping me from getting home to my family!”

Castiel looked deflated, but Dean couldn’t stop himself. He’d been to at least a hundred different universes today, his brain was scrambled mush, and he hadn’t even slept last night. Now they were about to go back to that fucking room and Dean was going back to not sleep on that fucking mattress and no fucking way. They had six more hours and they could visit another hundred universes in that time.

Maybe, just maybe, one would be home. But not if Castiel was going to just give up like this. Anger was boiling in Dean’s chest, and he let it—it was all that kept him from sitting down where he stood and crying in despair.

“You’re keeping me here, trapped in Biggerson’s forever. That’s not fair, Castiel. We’re going back. You’re getting us home!”

Dean clenched his fists, willing back his tears. Castiel infuriatingly didn’t say anything at all. He just stood there, looking at Dean like he was a balloon half-filled with helium, just waiting for Dean to pop.

So Dean did.

His fist was pulled back and flying at Castiel’s face before Dean even realized what was happening. All his frustration from the last day and a half, coiled and connecting with Castiel’s jaw with a crack.

Cas stumbled back, his hands instantly going to his face. He still didn’t say anything, just stared at Dean in shock. He’d been trying all day, doing his very best to get them home. He wanted to be home just as much as Dean did, if not more. He had family there too, and he didn’t have the same flair for escape. He looked up at Dean helplessly.

That pissed Dean off. Fuck Castiel for being so helpless. For being so unable, in this situation where he was the only one who had any capability at all. 

His fist pulled back again, this time hitting Castiel closer to the eye, and Cas fell down to his knees. Blood dribbled from his lip, splattering in the gravel at the edge of the parking lot.

The Biggerson’s sign overhead turned on, a sign that dusk was approaching. Its buzzing echoed the hazy and fading emotions that clouded Dean’s head. He stormed off, leaving Castiel to bleed and cry where he lay.

* * * *

Dean went back to the blue room and sat on the bed. His fist hurt, but he didn’t do anything about it, other than pressing his thumb into his knuckles where they were most bruised, so it would hurt more.

He should probably go out and look for Castiel, make sure he was okay. Only he should’ve done that over an hour ago, and going out now only made him feel worse for not leaving sooner. So Dean did nothing and sat there, making his hand hurt worse, because it distracted him from thinking or wondering where Cas was.

Finally the door opened, and in walked a weary, broken version of Castiel that Dean had never seen before. He had two plastic grocery bags of food, far more than enough to feed just one person for the night, Dean observed. After everything, Castiel had brought Dean food.

His lip was still bloody, and his face was streaked with dirt and tear streaks. His eye had gotten all purple and puffy where Dean’s fist had connected. He let the door close behind him and dropped the bags on the floor where he stood. He looked like such shit Dean was worried he was going to fall over on the spot. He got up to help Cas to the bed.

As soon as his arm wrapped around Castiel’s shoulders, Cas’ weight fell into him, his legs giving out almost completely. Dean didn’t think he was just this messed up from him punching him, although that obviously didn’t help matters at all. He was so beat up and tired because clearly a day of universe visiting had taken its toll.

Dean half led, mostly carried Cas over to his bed, before shedding him of that tan jacket he always wore. He sat down next to him, and knew he needed to apologize, but he didn’t really know what to say.

Castiel leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder, followed by his whole body resting against his side. Dean put his arm around his friend, and just held him there, awkwardly. He was heavy and wasn’t acting sweetly—Castiel simply just couldn’t hold himself upright without Dean’s support. He smelled like dirt, and sweat, and blood, and a little like the swamp water that collected in the culvert next to the parking lot.

Dean stroked his back, his other arm reaching around to hold him up by his shoulder, so he was fully hugging Castiel into himself, albeit sideways. “Cas?” he whispered. “Do you want to eat, sleep, or get cleaned up?”

Castiel sighed heavily against Dean, but didn’t answer.

“Hey, maybe we’ll have a little snack? Then you can get cleaned up and get some rest. Have some more food before you fall asleep, huh? Does that sound all right?”

Castiel made some quiet murmuring sounds that weren’t words, but they seemed vaguely positive. Dean did his best to prop him up, then patted his back one last time for good measure before going over to fetch the plastic bags and see what Cas had got.

All kinds of fruits and vegetables, as it turned out. He’d gotten bananas and grapes, along with sprouts, kale, tomatoes, and turkey meat to go with bread for sandwiches. There was a six-pack of apple juice bottles, and to Dean’s delight, a package of Oreos. Dean thought back and realized Oreos were what he’d said he wanted last night before storming out on Cas. Then even after Dean had punched him in the face, Castiel had still gotten them for him.

Dean swallowed back his guilt before it threatened to turn into an embarrassment tears, then picked up the bag of grapes and brought it over to the bed.

Castiel sat motionless, staring into space like he’d gone catatonic.

“Hey, want some grapes, man?”

Cas turned slightly, so at least he was that much aware of what was going on, much to Dean’s relief. He sat back down next to Cas, the grapes sitting on the shared lap where their thighs touched. Dean wordlessly pulled the grapes off the stems, then placed them into Castiel’s hand. Castiel didn’t look at Dean or say anything, just popped the grapes into his mouth, before putting his hand down and waiting for more.

They went on like that for several minutes, until Cas had eaten about half the bag of grapes, and then he didn’t bring his hand back down from his face. Instead he started scratching at the dried blood on his chin with his thumb.

“You ready to get cleaned up, Cas?”

Castiel closed his eyes, then leaned his head back against Dean. “I don’t think you want to sleep like that, dude. You smell like nature’s asscrack.”

Castiel sighed heavily again, enough so that the remaining grapes fell to the floor. “Okay okay,” Dean said. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing. It happens, you know.”

Dean didn’t know what he was going to do. Was he going to have to help Castiel take a shower? He’d been able to eat okay. Dean hadn’t needed to actually put the food directly into his mouth like he was a baby or anything. Maybe if he just got him into the bathroom and started the water, Castiel would be able to do the rest.

He was pressing his face into Dean’s shoulder, so all he could see was the top of his head. His hair was all matted down and greasy. Dean hugged his arm around him again and pulled him to his feet. “C’mon Cas,” he said.

Dean clicked on the light in the bathroom, which was not nearly as blue as the rest of the place. There were little blue accents here and there—some little blue flowers on the top row of tiles on the wall, and the tissue box was blue, but mostly they were looking at dingy, white ceramic. Castiel sat down on the toilet seat, but didn’t move. Dean sighed and began filling the tub with water.

Much to Dean’s surprise, the sound of the water running seemed to get Cas moving. He bent over and began removing his shoes. Dean thought about switching the faucet so Cas could shower, but then thought better of it. His hopes that Cas might be able to bathe on his own were returning, but he was still in rough shape, and he didn’t want the guy falling down in there.

Castiel peeled off his shirt, and by the time he was starting to unfasten his pants the tub was fairly full, so Dean turned off the water and left. He closed the door about halfway behind him, but wanted to leave it open a crack so he could hear if something went wrong.

They didn’t have any clean clothes, the duffle Dean had brought with had been lost in the whole ordeal with Lucifer or Alan or whoever, and he was kicking himself for that now. They’d have to pick something up tomorrow, but Cas would have to wear his dirty clothes in the meantime. Thinking of it, Dean smelled his own pits. He was getting pretty ripe himself.

He could hear the water sloshing as Castiel eased himself into the bath, and Dean lay his head back and looked at the ceiling for a moment, trying to let the stress of Castiel’s appearance and his waning strength seep out of his body. He took a deep breath, then got up to mess with the food again. Might as well make some sandwiches while he waited.

* * * * 

Castiel had gotten himself cleaned and redressed, then stepped out of the bathroom in his tight fitting boxers and the same filthy t-shirt he’d worn all day. Dean offered him the sandwich he’d made, and Castiel stood and ate the whole thing in the doorway of the bathroom. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, looking longingly at the bed.

“Ready for sleep?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded in a way that made his head look as though it weighed fifty pounds, but he made no movement toward the bed. Dean contemplated what to do for a moment, before placing his hand in the middle of Castiel’s back and leading him toward the bed. He lay down, but then held on to Dean’s hand and wouldn’t let go.

“Cas? It’s time for bed now,” said Dean.

Castiel nodded, his eyes closed, but he continued to hold onto Dean’s hand. Dean pulled away, but Castiel’s grip tightened. He stood there for at least ten minutes, waiting for Cas to fall asleep. He still gripped tight to Dean’s hand.

Finally Dean gave up and crawled under the covers next to Cas. He smelled like hotel soap and the sweat that was still on his shirt, but his skin was soft and warm next to Dean’s. He buried his head again in Dean’s shoulder and seemed more at peace than he had since they’d begun their trip. He seemed almost as content as he had the morning they’d watched the sun rise over the Grand Canyon.

By morning Dean didn’t know how he’d done it, but somehow he’d slept through Castiel’s snores. The sun was bright and shining through the slats in the cerulean curtains. When Dean turned to look at the digital clock it read 10:47. Castiel was already up and about, and apparently he’d already been out to the store.

“I didn’t know what size you wear, so I guessed,” he said, tossing a pair of cheap denim jeans and a red t-shirt at Dean. He had a banana in his other hand and took a large bite he then had to speak around. “I figured I’d let you sleep. Stopped by Wal-Mart. Also got a bag we can put our dirty stuff in. Wash it in the shower at night. With two outfits we can rotate.”

He scurried around the room, tidying up the food, putting leftovers in plastic bags, then shoving it all in the reusable Wal-Mart bag alongside his dirty clothes. He’d changed into a cheap pair of jeans to match Dean’s, and a dark grey t-shirt. His face was still all swollen, but he seemed recharged. Perky even.

“Well, get dressed, Dean. Let’s get a move on. No time to waste, right?”

The words stung. “Listen Cas, I—“

Castiel cut him off by shaking his head. “It’s forgotten. Your mistakes aren’t who you are.”

Dean scowled. That was a nice sentiment, but it wasn’t fucking true. He was mostly his mistakes. He was all the nice things, like taking care of Sammy and knowing how to fix cars really good, but his mistakes would always outweigh those things, and he was fucking accountable.

“Shut up, Cas,” he practically growled. “Shut the fuck up and accept the fact that I’m sorry, and accept the fact that there was never any excuse.”

Castiel ate the rest of his banana and stared him down. “Just get dressed, Winchester.”

Dean did, and then they were off to Biggerson’s. And Biggerson’s, and Biggerson’s, and Biggerson’s, and Biggerson’s. All morning, Biggerson’s, after Biggerson’s, after Biggerson’s. Dean was watchful now, trying to spot that drained look in Castiel’s eyes. He wanted to stop him from exerting himself before he went too far. He wanted to get home just as much as he had yesterday, but at least he’d learned from his mistakes. There was no way he’d ever get back without Castiel.

“Oh shit,” said Dean. They were standing near the bar area at some random Biggerson’s. Castiel assumed he’d sworn because he’d seen another of themselves, but that wasn’t it. It was Castiel’s horrible cousin. He was standing outside the window in the same place he’d been the other night when they were with that Sam who’d had the knife. He stood there, arms across his chest, staring directly at Dean, smiling smugly at him.

He could just be the Alan from this universe. That was the reasonable explanation. Dean’s gut told him otherwise. Why else was he looking directly at him? Shouldn’t he be focused on Castiel? Maybe they were in another Dean and Cas are gay together universe, so Alan knew Dean from family holidays or something. 

Then they were gone, and off again through the fabric of existence, so Alan or Lucifer or Satan, whatever he liked to be called in that universe, was gone. They looked around. This was another green universe—that’s what they’d started to call it when they found a Biggerson’s decorated in green, so they took off immediately.

Four stops later, and Lucifer was back.

Dean couldn’t ignore it this time. He was in the same spot outside the window, with that same fucking smile. He uncrossed his arms for a second to waggle his fingers at Dean, and grinned broadly. 

“Castiel, we have to stop.”

“Why, Dean? I’ve still got energy left. I can go for a bit longer. Do you think this might be the place?”

“God I hope not,” said Dean. “Look who followed us,” Dean gestured with his eyes toward the window. “Guess you were right to be worried about that, huh?”

“Maybe it’s just the Alan who lives here?”

“No. This isn’t the first time he’s been there. He’s following us, Cas.”

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t let him follow us home,” said Dean. “He’s _following_ us. He’s got powers or whatever like you do, _and_ he’s an evil son of a bitch. I don’t want him in our universe.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. “Well what are our options then?”

“I guess we don’t go home yet,” Dean said. “He sees us now, so we shouldn’t stay here either. Maybe hop a few more times, then go back to the hotel for the night? Hope he doesn’t find us that quick?”

“I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to find us, Dean.”

“You have a better option?”

Castiel didn’t, so off they went. Biggerson’s, Biggerson’s, Biggerson’s, then jogging off quickly to the motel, before Lucifer could figure out where they’d gone.

* * * *

Castiel was out in the motel room preparing himself some food, the TV tuned to the local news both out of curiosity of the differences in this universe, and out of a desire for background noise. Dean had gone in the bathroom several minutes ago, shut the lid on the toilet and sat there, head in his hands, the very portrait of pathetic.

There were too many unanswerable questions that Dean needed to know before making an informed decision. Like, was this guy simply another Alan, and he happened to have abilities like Castiel’s because it was genetic or something, or was he somehow seriously evil? Was he worth all the paranoia the Sam, Dean, and Cas from his ‘verse seemed to have in his regard? Was the name Lucifer some serious business?

If they were to lead Lucifer back to their home universe, could he simply be incarcerated for whatever bad shit he gets up to, and even though he doesn’t belong there, life goes on? Should they just let him follow them home? Or would that be the worst thing ever? Would that be like an apocalypse-level bad thing? If the crazy talk from the crazy talk universe wasn’t so crazy, Dean felt like it could be apocalypse-level bad. They all seemed to think he was legit Lucifer, and Sam practically peed himself every time he was within ten feet of the guy. Anything that bothered Sam that much, bothered Dean just on principal, even if it was the wrong Sammy.

So if they couldn’t move on and risk Lucifer following them home, then what were they supposed to do? Just live here, in whatever universe they’ve landed themselves in? They couldn’t stay in town, but they’d have to forge false identities and move across the country so the “real” Dean and Castiel would never find them. Only if they did that, what of this ‘verse? If they were worried about the safety of their own homes and families, wasn’t it super unethical to inflict that potential danger on these people?

Maybe they should just off themselves and be done with it. Maybe Lucifer would get bored and leave if that happened. Dean kneaded his forehead in his hands. How had this decision making business fallen on him anyway? He was the idiot who’d barely managed to get through high school, and now could barely manage to keep his life together working a dead end job. Why should he be trusted with big, potentially world ending decisions?

As if sensing Dean’s growing sense of resentment and isolation, Cas called out to him through the bathroom door. “Dean? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, happy for Castiel’s concern, but still refusing to move.

“I can run out and get you some Pepto or something if you’re having stomach problems.”

“No, I’m fine. Just… thinking.” Dean squinted his eyes shut, for whatever reason he disliked the amount of honesty in that statement. He pressed his knuckles into his eyes until he started to see the depths of the stars and the space within his own brain. Then he stood up, rolled his shoulders a few times, and headed out the door. Castiel was waiting for him just on the other side. 

“You didn’t wash your hands.”

“I didn’t use the bathroom. I was just sitting in it.”

Castiel tilted his head, giving Dean a perplexed look before saying, “Oh. Well do you want a sandwich?”

Cas had set out a paper towel with a sandwich piled high with fixings and cut diagonally. Five Oreo cookies were arranged in between the sandwich halves, and one of the bottles of apple juice sat to the side. It was ridiculously sweet.

Not to mention the fact that the night before Dean had punched Castiel in the face until he was broken and crying, and in return Castiel was making him sandwiches. Added with the fact that Castiel was right, this all was Dean’s fault for suggesting they go adventuring in the first place.

Dean sighed and sat next to the food on the bed. “Thanks,” he said, and began munching one of the Oreos. He couldn’t suggest they stay here. He’d been the one who said they should leave, and there was no way he could force Cas to stay. But he couldn’t suggest the suicide option to him either, that was ridiculous, even as hopeless as their situation was—the point was that they _wanted_ their lives back.

That was when a knock came at the door. Dean looked to Castiel as if to ask him who it was.

“You don’t think that’s Alan, do you?” asked Cas.

“I don’t know who the hell else it could be,” said Dean.

“Well we shouldn’t answer it,” Cas said. “We should push the dresser with the TV in front of the door. Barricade him out.”

Dean gave Cas a hopeless look. “Please. If he could teleport us all over town in the last place we talked to him, what makes you think a TV stand will keep him from just popping on in here?”

“Well, he’s not in a Biggerson’s.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s just your jam. This guy can do whatever he wants.”

Whoever it was at the door knocked again, this time yelling something about the F.B.I. and “open up.”

“We haven’t even done anything illegal since we got here, have we Cas?”

Castiel shrugged, but headed for the door. Might as well open it. Alan wasn’t fooling anyone, but whatever he was going to try to pull, there wasn’t any point in dragging it out.

Three men were standing outside. Dean, Castiel, and Sam, standing there looking at Castiel, and peering over his shoulder to see Dean sitting on the bed. “Well shit, Sam,” said the other Dean, “I guess you were on the money after all.”

Sam shot that Dean a look that was pure bitch, before pushing past Castiel and walking into the room. “Nice pot of trouble you guys have found yourselves in, huh?”

“What are you guys doing here?” asked Dean.

“You might recall how I saw you two at the restaurant before you up and vanished, right?”

Dean nodded.

“Well, right after that, Lucifer did too. I sort of figured he followed you. So I reported back to your better halves over here, and we all agreed it was best _not_ to let Lucifer wreak whatever havoc he’s got upon any multitude of parallel universes. So we followed you.”

“How are you doing it anyway?” The other Castiel asked. “I take it you are both human.”

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “But all the Biggerson’s are stacked, see. Like in this quantum superposition. You can basically just jump right through. Why do you ask if I’m human?”

“In our universe,” the other Dean pointed from himself to Castiel, “he’s an angel. Flies all over the place.”

“Yes, but punching through the fabric of the universe like that. That’s a neat trick. And you figured out the thing with the Biggerson’s all on your own? That’s very clever.”

“Yeah, yeah, quit patting yourself on the back,” the other Dean rolled his eyes. He let himself into the room and sat next to Dean on the bed, picking up two of his cookies. “You two have left quite an easy path to follow, according to Cas.”

“There are a significant amount of ripples, waves even, that were easy to follow once I knew what I was looking for,” said Castiel. “No wonder Lucifer has been able to track you so easily as well. I presume you’ve seen him?”

“Wait though,” Dean was confused, “How did you guys know about the parallel universes thing anyway?”

“Not our first tango, buddy,” explained the other Dean, his mouth full of Oreo. “In this one universe, you and me were on _Days of Our Lives_.”

“What?”

“Yeah, and Sam’s not even our brother and he’s got an alpaca.”

“I died,” said the other Cas all too casually. “Or so I’m told.”

Dean, both Deans actually, stared at Castiel for a long moment until Castiel—the non-weird, claiming to be an angel one, broke the silence. “So you guys followed us, and Lucifer, to do what exactly?”

“To help you, obviously,” said Sam. “I got the feeling you were in no way capable of going toe to toe with Lucifer.”

“I take that to mean you believe he is actually _the_ Lucifer, Lucifer?” Dean clarified.

“Believe? Listen Dean, we aren’t crazy. You and your Cas here have been visiting different universes through portals in Biggerson’s establishments. Do you honestly think what we’re saying is beyond reason? Just… Shut up and let us deal with Lucifer, okay? And yeah, he’s the real deal.”

Dean refused eye contact with angry, finger pointing Sam, and took a bite of his sandwich. Jeez, he was just asking.

* * * *

For all their intentions of help, the cavalry from the universe crazy town sure didn’t seem to have a lot of ideas on how to get Lucifer off their trail. “It’s not like there’s a subtle way to rip apart the fabric of space and time,” the angel Castiel pointed out. Then the other Dean got super frustrated that there weren’t any books on the subject, while Sam kept looking through the slats of the curtains, worried Lucifer was about to bust in and set them all on fire at any moment.

Castiel, the human version, had spent most of the day traveling and had announced he was just going to rest his eyes for a little while. Less than three minutes later and he was snoring so loudly Dean was tempted to wake him up just to give his ears some reprieve. Especially since that left just him to figure out what to do.

Most obviously he wanted Lucifer to follow the other Dean and Cas back to their universe, so he and Castiel could get back onto their search unencumbered. At least that seemed like half a solution. 

The other Dean and Cas had gone to sit on Dean’s bed and were now whispering quietly to each other. Dean wondered if that Castiel was really an angel, and if so, in how many of the universes out there Castiel was actually an angel, not a human. Maybe his Castiel was an exception to the rule, and that’s why he still had some powers. Like, they’d just carried over because that’s part of the Castiel script, but they weren’t as powerful and only worked in areas of really distinct quantum superposition, because he wasn’t actually an angel.

Well, it was a theory. And it’d be interesting, Dean thought, maybe that explained how a lot of people could be psychic or have seemingly paranormal experiences. It was just that another version of themselves wasn’t really human.

Not that this theorizing was doing any of them any good. Focus, Winchester, he told himself. How to get Lucifer to mistake the easy pickings, human Dean and Castiel, for the more experienced with all this angels and demons nonsense, Dean and Castiel. Well, the main difference was that those guys had Sammy with them. It would be an awful much to ask Sam to switch brothers just for the sake of them. Not to mention the fact that Dean didn’t really like this Sam so much; he wasn’t at all like his Sammy. 

Or, Dean thought, they could switch clothes, then they other group could all go to the Biggerson’s tomorrow morning, just like he and Cas could be expected to do. Sam would have to sneak in later, or hide out in the parking lot. Dean wondered how good the angel’s powers were, and if he could pluck Sam up from anywhere in a certain radius before jumping off. He knew his Cas couldn’t do that, but maybe that guy could. That would solve the Sammy issue entirely, and then it was just a matter of the fact that he and his Cas were still stuck here.

And with that thought, as if on cue, Castiel gave one last large snore before starting to wake up. While he rolled himself out of bed, Dean shared his plan with the others.

“I should be able to pick Sam up from anywhere, provided I know where he is. It will delay me approximately 0.000001 seconds, however, which could be a problem.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Dean said incredulously.

“Lucifer may be very perceptive.”

“We’ll risk it,” the other Dean said, nudging his Cas with his elbow. “But what about you guys. I’m guessing you’d have been home a long time ago if you knew how to get there. Cas was saying you seem to be flying blind?”

“Yes,” the human Cas admitted. His hair was all mussed up and flattened on one side, and the other Dean kept smiling at him like he thought that was super fucking adorable or something. “How can you tell where you are traveling?”

“That question is like if you were to ask yourself how you knew you had skin. I just do. I’m technically a multi-dimensional wave of light, so perceiving multi-dimensional things comes rather naturally.”

“That must be… different,” said Castiel. “I wonder how it is that I wound up human if you are so… not human.”

“My guess would be that angels don’t exist in your universe,” explained the angel. “All the more reason for us to want to keep Lucifer out of it.”

Dean was starting to get nervous. What if this plan didn’t work? What if he and Cas somehow led an all powerful, evil son of a bitch to their home, where there weren’t any other forces to counter him. 

“I don’t know,” he said. “You guys are right, we need to keep Lucifer away from our families. I think this is too risky.”

Castiel looked at Dean like he’d lost his mind. “Maybe you’ve given up, Dean, but I have a sister. I’m going to get home. I don’t care how lost we get in the process, or if it takes another eighty years.” His jaw was set, and Dean had clearly pissed him off.

“You have a sister?” Castiel asked.

Cas nodded. “Her name is Anna.”

“Anna,” Castiel said wistfully. “I had an Anna too. She was killed by Michael.”

“Michael was my older brother. Anna and I ran away as soon as we were old enough.”

Castiel smiled. “Anna always wanted me to run away with her,” he mused. “I wonder if there’s a universe out there where we are angels and I did.”

“Based on how I’ve visited at least two hundred of them in the last couple days, I’d have to guess there’s at least one like that,” said Dean.

“You want to get back to your sister?” Sam broke is vigil at the window and turned to Cas.

“Of course.”

“Well that’s gotta be the thing that different. The thing that sets your universe apart from all the others.”

Castiel looked confused. “There’s an Anna in all the universes. Whether she’s human, like my sister, or dead and an angel like his. Many of the universes are almost exactly the same as the last one.”

“No, but those Anna’s aren’t _your_ Anna,” said Sam. “That’s the difference. You don’t have any connection to the Anna we knew. Focus on that part. Not on the physical details of the world, but the abstract emotions of it.”

“And then make sure to tap your ruby slippers three times,” said the other Dean, rolling his eyes.

“Silly as it sounds, Dean, it’s worth a shot,” said Cas. “What’s the worst that could happen? We’ll either get home, or we’ll end up still lost.”

“Yeah, okay,” said the other Dean. “Well, we’ve got a plan and about four hours to kill before morning. Does this place get the SyFy channel?”

* * * *

Dean had changed into the other Dean’s clothes, and now the Castiels were in the process of switching their wardrobes. He felt heavy in these clothes. There were so many layers, and Dean wasn’t used to it. He pulled nervously at the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, adjusting them beneath the cuffs of the jacket sleeves. There really were just a lot of sleeves involved in this outfit.

“Hey,” the other Dean smiled at him, “it’s a good plan you came up with. Even if Sam’s whole thing with the ‘focus on your love’” he put up finger quotes, “doesn’t work, at least we’ll get Lucifer off your ass.”

Dean nodded, but he still couldn’t help being nervous.

“You all just chill back here, and once Sammy disappears, you’re home free. We’re not gonna teleport outta there until we’re sure Lucifer sees us.”

They did the plan. The other Dean and Castiel left, on foot because that’s how Lucifer would be expecting them to travel, while Sam sat on the bed and actually twiddled his thumbs while he waited.

And waited. Dean started pacing the room, Castiel’s eyes tracking his progress back and forth. Sam asked about the other Sam, and how he got on in a universe without monsters and angels. The topic made Dean uncomfortable. The other Sam revealed that his mother had died in a house fire too, but it was caused by a demon. He kept talking, maybe trying to put Dean at ease, but he kept pacing over the sound of Sam’s voice. It had been almost an hour, and Dean was just about to throw his hands up and start ranting, “What is taking so long!” when Sam disappeared.

It was so sudden, and it seemed like an oversight that they hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye. 

“We must go to Biggerson’s and leave now, before Lucifer can realize his mistake and retrace his steps back to us,” said Castiel.

“Yeah. Right,” said Dean, looking back upon the blue room, for what he hoped was the last time. “Let’s get outta here.”

Back at Biggerson’s, and Dean’s had enough of Biggerson’s to last him a hundred years now. If this plan truly worked, he was going to quit his fucking job and do something with his life. That other Dean didn’t even have a high school diploma and he was all kinds of gruff confidence, and according to Sam, they’d saved the world. If he could be something, then why not Dean? 

The transit wasn’t instantaneous this time. Not like usual when he would be standing in one Biggerson’s, and so suddenly would he be in the next that he could barely tell they’d moved at all. This time Dean got stuck in the blur. For several seconds he could see the stacked up realities, all on top of one another. Billions of places, all existing in the same space. There were so many of them, and how on earth could Castiel ever be expected to hone in on one in particular, even if he was trying to lead them by the power of love. What a bunch of hippie-sounding bullshit. 

He could even see all the Anna’s. They all moved through their own worlds, oblivious to all the other Anna’s that existed alongside them. They all looked the same to Dean, but he supposed he was just looking with his eyes, and not his heart or whatever sappy nonsense Sam had said. They were all flashes of long, red hair; faces buried in books, and driving cars, and smiling sadly.

There were so many of them, and sometimes Dean was able to feel a deep emptiness whenever encountering a universe without an Anna, or one like the other Winchester’s universe, where the Anna had died. And while the Anna’s were somewhat more distinct, the Biggerson’s were seemingly more and more identical the longer they spent lost in the blur. Well, Castiel was right. It was at least worth a try.

His feet were standing on the dull grey carpeting of Biggerson’s, and it looked like it hadn’t been vacuumed properly. Crumbs littered the floor around the bar. 

“Where have you two been?” Julian rounded the counter and was seething right up in Dean’s face. “Two days in a row, you don’t show up. No notice given, you don’t call. Not even your families can tell me where you’ve been! You didn’t elope did you?”

“Uh… No?” answered Dean.

“Well get the hell to work. This place is falling apart.”

“I’d like to Julian,” said Dean. “I’d really like to. Unfortunately, and here’s the thing…” Dean smiled, the joy bubbling up inside him and beaming out through his face. “I quit.”

“You can’t quit! You require two weeks notice!”

“I haven’t been to work in two days. So fire me!” Dean couldn’t stop smiling. He’d been to thousands of Biggerson’s in the last few days, and from here out, Dean intended to spend as little time in the place as he possibly could. He’d had enough of the Biggerson’s in Lawrence, Kansas to last him the lifetimes of him and all his alternate universe counterparts. They didn’t have a proof positive verification that they were home, but somehow Dean knew they’d made it. Without a doubt, he was home. Tears were teasing at the corners of his eyes and he could almost kiss Julian, just for being _the_ Julian. He didn’t of course, instead sheepishly looking at the floor, before turning to Cas.

“Castiel?” asked Julian. “How about you? You going to up and leave as well?”

Castiel looked at Dean and smiled, and Dean could swear he’d never seen an expression more genuine on the man’s face ever. “No,” he said, still looking at Dean. “No, Julian, I’m ready to clock in. I’m happy to be home.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Julian grumbled before stalking back into the kitchen.

Dean, on the other hand, walked out the glass panel front doors, and into the crisp November air. It was cold and hit his lungs hard, smelling of all the pollution and Biggerson’s food and just as familiar as this place had been in every other Biggerson’s they’d visited, but it was lighter somehow. The weight of space and time were no longer pressing down upon him, and for the first time in his life, Dean felt free.

* * * *

Three months later.

It was the first day of spring semester at Highland Community College. Dean had a new notebook, a new package of pens, and a whole collection of butterflies in his stomach. He’d parked his car, but was still sitting in the parking lot. This was it. The first day of a new adventure. He’d brought up the idea with Sam, and to his surprise, was met with enthusiasm and support.

“It’ll be a mess to work out financially,” Dean said.

“Whatever man. We’ll make it work.”

“My new job isn’t giving me many hours yet, and if I reduce my availability, I’ll get even less.” Dean had recently found work at a bar, but he wasn’t much of a drink mixer, preferring a simple beer or whiskey himself, so it was taking a while for management to warm up to him.

“So I’ll pick up more shifts at the gas station. You’ll need to adjust to whatever your study schedule ends up like anyway,” Sam shrugged. Just like that, like it was no big deal.

“But—“ Dean continued, only for Sam to actually kick him in the leg.

“Shut up, Dean. You want to go to school, you’re doing it. You’re my brother, and you’re doing something for yourself once in your life.” Sam ended the debate by walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him, and that was it. A month later Dean was registered for a slew of general classes. They sounded boring as hell, but there was room in his schedule for a basic auto repairs class. 

So here he was. He was sure he was going to be several years older than any of the other students here, but fuck it. Fuck it if his nerves were acting up too, because damned if he wasn’t going to give this a try.

Besides, what was the worst thing that could happen? If he failed, he’d just be right back where he is now. Still lost, but maybe he’d even have a bit more knowledge to show for it. He just hoped his teachers here would like him better than the ones from high school. With that thought his stomach butterflies started to act up again and he swallowed heavily in effort to make them stop.

He gathered up his things off the front seat of the Impala, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He had a couple minutes to spare, so he checked the text. From Castiel, it read, _“Good luck, Winchester. Meet me at Biggerson’s after class. Tell me all about your first day. Coffee is on me.”_

_”U got it. See U at 6,”_ Dean typed back, before clicking his phone to silent.

He bit his lip and opened car door, enjoying the way the Impala creaked, and stepped out onto a light dusting of snow. It didn’t seem like the first day of school that he was used to, since here he was starting mid-year. There were no fall leaves to crunch underfoot, or rumbling school buses. This was something different, Dean decided. This was how Dean’s adventure would go. He hoped it was something he deserved, but even if not, he was gonna make it good.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this fic has fabulous artwork. I really enjoyed working with Merkitten, even though we didn't get to know each other too well, because we both have very busy schedules, she tackled this with ambition (have you seen it? She made a .gif!) and had me so excited to see the final results all through the project. And most certainly not disappoint!
> 
> Here's the link again! [Art Post](http://merkitten.livejournal.com/3393.html)


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